Bad Luck Bree: The Girl on the Flying Dutchman
by Bad Luck Bree
Summary: Bad Luck Bree is the fiercest female pirate ye'll ever cross. But her life of freedom aboard the Goresail is brought to an abrupt halt after she is pressganged into Davy Jones' crew. However, even Davy Jones finds it difficult to tame her down. Davy
1. Welcome to the Crew

Chapter I

Chapter I

"Welcome to the crew!"

The _Flying Dutchman_ had overtaken another unfortunate vessel. No survivors were taken. At least, that was the order the fearsome captain of the ship gave. But one of the opposing pirates had been taken prisoner.

Davy Jones came up onto the deck as two of his crew brought a struggling figure forward. It was covered in blood, and Jones couldn't make it out well.

The first crewmember took hold of the figure's hair, which was undistinguishable between light brown or blond, and pulled up, revealing the pirate's face. All were taken by surprise. A young girl stared right up at the captain. Her eyes were fiery, like blue flames, and wild and savage. Her mouth was smeared with blood and her neck was bleeding.

The young female pirate's eyes went wide as she saw who her captor was. Fear flooded into her face, but Jones could tell she was no coward. One of the crewmembers had brought him her sword. It was a long broadsword, very unusual. He had one himself, though he seldom used it. By the look of the girl's sword, he could tell she was skilled with it.

Jones nodded to the two crewmembers, "Lock her below. I'll deal with her later."

Both grinned eagerly, pushing the young girl along. They could get some fun out of her!

Jones was a bit surprised at himself. Why keep a girl as a captive? She would be no use to him. But something in her eyes…she had a fire, a true warrior spirit. He could get some work out of her. And he loved breaking hard spirits.

Bree sat, hugging her knees to her chest. She prided herself on being brave, but anyone would be terrified out of their wits if they were the prisoner of the dreaded Davy Jones! She felt tears running down her bloodied cheeks. All her crewmates…dead. Her ship…splintered on the rocks. Her captain…she shuddered, remembering how the _Dutchman_'s crew had dealt with him. "Time to feed the fishes!" one had said, licking his blade.

Bree's head shot up like a frightened doe as the door to the brig slammed open. She heard footsteps. Unnatural footsteps. By the sound she could tell one leg was made of wood or bone. Then the figure came into view. Bree shuddered as she looked upon Davy Jones. When she had first seen him she had blood clogging her vision. Now she could see him clearly.

Bree scooted back as far as she could. Jones opened her cell, grinning down at her as his beard of tentacles moved with a life of their own. Bree tried looking him in the eyes, but the pale blue depths were so harsh and cruel that she couldn't hold it for long.

Bree felt her spine prickle as Jones' harsh voice broke the semi-silence, "So, a girl pirate, eh? Brave, little one, brave. But this is no place for someone like ye."

Bree summoned up her courage and growled out, "Then why don't ye let me go? Or at least kill me!"

Jones laughed, and the sound made Bree's marrow freeze. He then spoke again, "My crew says ye fought hard. We could always use a good, strong young'un like yerself. Why not join us? Otherwise, it's fishfood for ye."

Bree gave an involuntary gasp. She didn't want the fate of her own captain. She shook with terror, trying to stay calm, but panic was making her dizzy. She forced herself to look up again, saying boldly, "Go ahead an' kill me, fishface! I ain't afraid o' death, an' I ain't afraid o' ye!"

Bree was slammed against the wall as Jones gripped her throat with his left hand, which was simply a large claw. He tightened his grip, and Bree couldn't breath. She began clawing at her throat, trying to release herself, but it did no good. Even when she angled her head down and bit into the claw it did no good. Her teeth simply scraped the coarse shell.

Jones laughed again, clearly enjoying this. He spoke once again, calm and almost friendly, "Ye've a strong spirit, lass. T'would be a pity to kill such a fine young'un. Why not sail on my ship? The very mention of this crew makes the bravest go pale! I can tell ye're a savage young thing. Ye may not fear death, but ye fear what follows it, aye?"

Bree tried to swallow, but she couldn't. She then tried to say something, and Jones released her. Bree rubbed at her throat, gulping in air. Then she snarled, "Kill me! I'll be nothin' but trouble fer ye! I swear me oath on that!"

Jones grinned again, his eyes fierce. He then stepped forward, gripping her right sleeve and ripping it. He then pressed his hand to her skin, and Bree shuddered as the slime covered her shoulder. When Jones backed away, Bree looked at her shoulder.

"All yer mates bear this mark as well, missy," Jones said, and Bree watched in horror as a black mark, like a brand, formed on her shoulder. She was doomed!

Jones grinned wickedly, "Welcome to the crew."

Bree gave out a terrible howl of rage and she charged forward, slamming into Jones, but he was like a rock, never even budging. Bree dodged around him and suddenly grabbed the hilt of his broadsword, pulling it from his belt. The scabbard and hilt were crusted with barnacles, and she had to tug hard to remove the blade. But when she did, she rammed it into Jones' chest. The blade went all the way through the great captain, the point sticking out of his back…but nothing happened. Bree released the sword hilt, stepping back, waiting for him to fall. But he didn't. He simply watched her smugly.

Bree stared in horror at Jones. He gripped the sword hilt, drawing the blade out of himself with a sickening squelch, snarling, "Have ye learned nothin', whelp?"

Bree didn't wait for anything after that. She bolted for the open door, tearing up to the deck and trying to get over the side. She felt something slam into her and she was hurled sideways as about three of the crewmembers piled onto her, holding her down. She fought viciously, and they had a hard time keeping her still, but at last, she stopped, panting and sobbing for breath as blood ran down into her eyes.

Davy Jones came up, standing over her, shaking his head scornfully. "Impressive, but foolish." Then he said, "What's yer name?"

Bree angled her head up as straight as she could get it, and then gasped out, "Bree…"

Jones nodded, then motioned to the others. Bree was hauled roughly up by her hair. Jones beckoned the bosun forward, saying, "She gets a floggin'. Fine way to break her in, aye?"

The bosun grinned, eager to do so. Bree snarled after the captain, "I won't be on this ship forever, ye hear me? Ye can't keep Bree in a place she don't want to stay!"

Jones grinned as he turned, retorting, "Oh, I assure ye, missy. I can. Without me, the sea is nothing. Ye live in my world. Ye live by my rules. I can do what I like with ye."

The bosun uncoiled his whip from around his waist, signaling to two crewmen. They tied Bree to the grating, removing her jerkin. The bosun grinned, bringing his arm back and giving a hard flick. The crack was heard across the water, but no scream followed.

Three dozen might have killed a girl, but Bree stood strong, never even making a noise. This disappointed the onlookers, but they had some fun out of it by throwing salty seawater onto Bree's raw back. Bree felt the salt burn her fresh cuts, and she pressed her teeth to her bonds, trying to keep back the tears.

Bree lay on the deck, rainwater soaking her bloodied back as she tried to sleep. She didn't care if she died out here. Better to die than serve on this ship!

But Bree found no rest. She was hauled up, and was whirled around. A half man half shark gripped her, grinning at her. He called out, "Cap'n! She's still alive!"

Jones came over, his broadsword back in its sheath, "I should hope so." He looked closely at Bree. His eyes rested on a medallion hanging about her neck. He motioned towards it, asking, "What is that, missy?"

Bree gripped the medallion, hissing, "Nothin'!"

Jones smiled cruelly. He reached forward, took hold of the medallion and ripped it from Bree's neck. Bree gave out a cry, lunging forward, but the shark creature yanked her back. Bree began pleading with her new captain, "Please! That was my mother's! It's all I have left of her!"

Jones fingered the medallion, inspecting it. He grinned, tucking it into his shirt, saying, "I might as well take it off yer hands. Ye won't need it."

Bree felt tears budding in her eyes. She growled angrily, "I swear I'll kill ye!"

Jones laughed hard, and those within earshot laughed as well. No one had ever been so defiant, but Bree stood no chance against Davy Jones.

Jones then thought up something, another way to torment the poor girl. He took the medallion and turned to his crew, beckoning them forward. He pulled Bree forward, holding her by the throat and whispering, "We'll see how much this is really worth."

The captain tossed the small necklace up into the air, and a scramble for it ensued. Biting, kicking and punching, the crew struggled to get the piece of jewelry. The bosun was the one who ended up with the medallion. He grinned wickedly, looping the chain around his neck. He walked up to Bree, hissing in her face, "Nice li'l trinket, eh?"

Bree lunged forward, sinking her teeth into his neck, slime coating her mouth. The bosun roared in pain, and Jones grabbed Bree, squeezing her so hard that the girl started to vomit up blood.

Bree was thrown to the deck, a foot placed on her throat. She writhed weakly, blood loss causing her to feel faint and dizzy. She looked up with dim eyes at the sadistic captain. She bared her teeth, hissing, "Don't think ye've won!"

Jones hauled the girl up, growling at her, "Ye can't win, missy. Ye're a defenseless maid, an' only by my protection can ye live!"

Bree laughed in his face, saying harshly, "So I'm to believe that ye'll protect me?"

Jones whirled her around to face the crew, "From _them_!"

Bree kept struggling, growling, "Go ahead an' let 'em try it! I ain't afraid!"

The bosun made a strange noise in his throat, saying, "She can't work alongside us, Cap'n. She's too weak an'…"

He was cut short as a vicious snarl split the air. Bree sprang forward, only to be restrained by Jones again. But the bosun leaped back, fear in his eyes. Bree snarled, "I can outwork an' outfight any of ye!"

Jones laughed harshly, calling to his crew, "Well, boys, ye've a new crewmate!"

The crew cheered, but it was a sadistic, cruel cheer, that of a group of monsters waiting for a moment to torment their new 'mate'.

Bree was flung forward into the crowd, where her new mates began shoving her in the direction of the hold. Bree felt the tears forming on her eyelashes. She wished she had been turned into fishbait now.

In the hold, the crew had at first had their share of fun with Bree, pushing and knocking her about, ridiculing her and using her for all sorts of sadistic jokes and pranks. Bree now lay in her hammock in the corner, blood crusting her mouth. She tried to sleep, to die, anything to escape! Tears and slime caked her cheeks, her hair hanging limply over her dimmed eyes.

Suddenly, a loud, booming type of music began to play, reverberating all along the ship. She jumped out of the hammock, startled. She had never heard anything like it before! She gasped, "What is that?"

Maccus, the shark pirate, grinned, enjoying her bewilderment, "Cap'n's playin' agin. 'Aven't ye ever heard organs afore, girl?"

Bree still stood there, shaking her head. Another of the crew spoke in a mock voice, "Ain't it a pretty tune?" He laughed along with the others.

Bree listened. She thought it was a pretty tune. It was strangely haunting, sad and wistful, but powerful. She was surprised that someone like Jones would play a song like that, let alone be that skilled in music.

Bree sat back down, listening to the song. It comforted her in a way, but it also made her sad. She actually felt a tear budding in her right eye. No, it wasn't the music! It was the fact that all her old mates were dead and her ship, the _Goresail_, wrecked upon the rocks. And now she was a captive to the pirate who bested the devil himself. She was exhausted. She lay down, letting the sound of the organ drown out the voices of her crewmates as she drifted off into a fitful slumber.


	2. That's the Difference, Mate

Chapter II  
"That's the difference, mate."

Bree felt the whip fall across her back, accompanied by the bosun's harsh voice, "Git up, ye lazy rat! This ain't no pleasure craft!"  
Bree rolled out of her hammock, landing awkwardly. The whip continued to fall until she staggered to her feet, rubbing at her eyes with a grimy hand. She looked about, the haze of sleep still impeding her vision, but she snarled, "I'm up, I'm up! Gimme that whip an' I'll give ye some lessons with it!"  
As she turned, the bosun flicked his whip forward, wrapping the end around Bree's legs and pulling sharply. She fell heavily, scraping one side of her face on the rough deck, a sharp, jagged edge of a dead barnacle cutting into her cheek. She sucked in her breath, clapping a hand to her face to staunch the blood. Rising, she turned to the bosun, baring her teeth but not saying anything. She moved away, stumbling toward the galley.  
On the ship Goresail, the crew had been fed well enough. The Dutchman was a different matter. Bree was handed a strip of meat, almost raw. She was comforted by the fact that she was at least given a ration of grog. Retreating to a corner, the girl nibbled at the grisly bit of meat, too hungry to refuse it. She didn't savor her grog, but downed it in one gulp. It wasn't the best she'd had, probably a type of seaweed grog, but it was better than nothing.  
As Bree's senses became alert, probably helped along by the grog, she observed her new mates. The bosun was the main one she focused on. She swore silently that she would get her medallion back. She could see it hanging from his neck, now covered in a coat of slime. She growled, biting down hard on the rim of her tankard. Along with the captain, that was another one she swore to kill!  
But who was she fooling? Davy Jones was…well…Davy Jones. He was immortal, in a way. A young, female pirate like Bree wouldn't stand a chance against him. But she didn't care. Why not try?  
Ye'd be killed, mate! her reason spoke. But Bree objected, I'd rather be killed than sit an' do nothin'! Someone needs to stand up to Jones! But her reason spoke again, Ye stood up to 'im an' now look where ye are! She thought about this, and then remembered But I'm still alive.  
Bree pulled a ragged blanket she had found tighter around her shoulders. It was so dank and cold! Small sea creatures were constantly crawling over her, so much so that she had given up trying to flick them away. A small hermit crab began crawling over her knee. She watched it, thinking, Ye're a lucky fella. Livin' on this ship but doin' fine. Wish I could cope. She shook herself. Well, ye can't! So stop wishin'!  
I can cope until I escape. Reason objected, Ye won't escape! Jones'll be watchin' ye like a hawk! He knows how wild ye are! He'll expect somethin'! But Bree's wild, warrior spirit rose, He can't stop me. Bree can't be held in a place she don't want to be!  
Bree cupped her hand, scooping up the small crab and setting him down gently, speaking softly as if confiding to an old friend, "Ye'll see. Soon, I'll be as fierce a pirate as Jones 'imself. Then I'll face 'im. An' then, whichever comes first, I'll escape. Aye. With the medallion and my revenge."

Bree made her way up to the deck, spotting Greenbeard at the helm. She cleared her throat. He turned and saw her. She was his relief, and he stepped away from the helm, handing a bottle to her.  
Bree took her place at the helm, swigging away at the bottle. Rum. Very nice. Something civilized at last!  
Bree had worked hard all day, avoiding any encounters with the captain, and the crew was impressed and surprised that she could outwork all of them. The jeering still went on and they all made life hard for her, but she had gained some respect. Pulling at the bottle again, Bree looking towards the captain's cabin. Hopefully he stayed in there all night. She didn't want to encounter him.  
Bree gently turned the helm, following the course set out. She was surprised this ship even had a course. She was a ghost ship! All she ever did was attack helpless merchant ships, or even pirate ships, like the Goresail. The Dutchman never made port. Bree shuddered, wondering how they stocked up on food. Of course, there wasn't really a need for food.  
Bree found herself drinking too much of the rum. It seemed her only escape. She gulped it down until her sight went fuzzy. The bottle was empty. She clutched at it tightly and held onto the helm for support. Suddenly, she sat down with a hard bump, leaning against the helm and drifting off into a drunken stupor.  
Maccus poked his head up from the hold, spying the slumped form of Bree, still in her drunken state. Grinning cruelly, Maccus climbed up the steps, holding something in his left hand. A brand. How he had heated it, no one knew, but there it was.  
Maccus stood over Bree, holding the brand out, ready to touch the heated edge to Bree's cheek.  
Suddenly, someone came up behind him and knocked the brand from his hand. It landed on the damp deck, extinguishing with a hiss.  
Maccus turned, anger in his eyes. When he saw who it was, he laughed grimly, "So, ye've decided to play the rebel again, eh? Suppose ye've taken a likin' to the girl, aye?"  
The other, another crewmember who was closer to a human than any of the others besides Bree, crossed his arms over his chest, unafraid. He spoke in an unwavering tone, "The girl's had a hard enough time, mate. Leave 'er be. She's too tough to scream, if that's what ye were hopin'."  
Maccus growled, hissing, "Would ye rather me rat on 'er to the captain?"  
The other didn't move, undaunted, "He can't do any more to 'er. She isn't afraid of 'im. She's got true pirate blood in 'er, I can tell. A brave girl. She's got more backbone than ye."  
Maccus shouldered past, sneering, "I swear, Bootstrap, ye're too kindhearted to crew the Dutchman!"  
Bootstrap ignored Maccus. He knelt down, gently removing the bottle from Bree's hands. Then he removed his own cloak and placed it around her shoulders. Bree, still asleep, shifted and clutched at the ragged cloth, pulling it around herself.  
Bootstrap stepped back, looking at the young girl. What a cruel fate! To be so young, so brave, only to have life end aboard the Dutchman.  
Bree murmured something in her sleep, restless. She slumped down further, the cloak warding off the chill. Bootstrap stood over her, keeping watch for her. If the captain came out, he would wake the girl. He had seen how cruel Jones had been. He didn't want the girl to get into any more trouble.

Bree felt someone gently shaking her. She opened her eyes, yawned, shook off the piercing headache and rubbed at her eyes. She looked up, seeing a crewmember. She instinctively tried to back away, but she was up against the helm. She snarled, but the crewmember only offered her his hand. A little confused, Bree grabbed it and allowed him to help her up. She felt a bit woozy, but she could stand.  
The crewman looked Bree over, saying in a kind tone, "Are ye alright? I'm sorry to wake ye, but yer relief should be comin' soon. Didn't want 'em to find ye asleep."  
Bree was astonished that anyone on this ship would show her kindness. This man…well…was like a man! He didn't look entirely like a monster. He had sea creatures living and growing on him, but he still looked a bit human. "Who are you?"  
"Doesn't matter. I'd best get down below before someone finds out I woke ye."  
Bree watched as he went down below decks. She was touched that someone cared about her. And she didn't even know his name! She hadn't seen him before. Of course she had only been with the crew for a day.  
Bree stood at the helm, her headache clearing. She was still tired, but knew that once her relief came, she could sleep…as long as her mates allowed.  
Bree nearly jumped out of her skin as Clanker nudged her to the side, taking his place at the wheel. Bree backed away, slowly descending down into the hold. She made her way through to her hammock, crawling into the mildewed canvas. She pulled the ragged blanket over herself, falling instantly to sleep.

Bree woke before the others, perhaps by instinct. She rose, moving as quietly as possible. Slipping on her jerkin and boots, the girl snuck to the ladder, moving up to the deck. She peeked out, seeing who was at the helm. Clanker still. Bree sighed, slinking back down into the hold. She cast about the area, delighted to find a bottle that was still half full nestled under one of the hammocks.  
Uncorking the bottle, Bree took an exploratory sip. Grog. Not too bad. She settled down in the corner, waiting for dawn to come. Then an idea struck her. She looked around the hammocks, spotting the bosun, snoring loudly. She set the bottle down, rising and sneaking forward.  
Her necklace was still looped around the bosun's neck. Bree got as close as she dared, and then reached out, gently taking the medallion in her hand. There was no way to loop the chain off without lifting the bosun's head, so she began tugging lightly. The chain was sturdy, and she failed in breaking it. Cursing under her breath, Bree backed away. She went back to her bottle, taking comfort in it.  
Bree must have dozed off again, for the next thing she knew, the bottle was wrenched away from her and she was hauled to her feet. Greenbeard kicked her roughly in the direction of the deck, hissing, "C'mon, beauty! No time for sleepin'!"  
Bree made her was to the galley again, accepting the meager fare. Someone had put something in her drink, but as to disappoint them, she drank it all down, never flinching. After all, she was crawling with slime and sea creatures anyway.  
As Bree ate in her corner, she looked around the room for the one who had been so kind to her. She didn't see him with the others. Wait…there he was! Sitting in the opposite corner, alone.  
Taking her tankard of grog, Bree stood and made her way over to him. Sitting down across from him, Bree said, "I…I meant to thank ye for what ye did, sir."  
Bootstrap looked at the girl, smiling slightly. "There's no need to, young'un. And ye needn't call me sir, either. You an' I are equals on this ship."  
Bree sipped at her grog, forcing herself to swallow whatever her mates had put in there. She scraped at her tongue and then said, "I don't know yer name, mate."  
"My name is Bill Turner, but ye can call me Bootstrap," he answered, and then said, "An' yer name is Bree, aye?"  
Bree nodded, spitting out a bone as she chewed on the grisly meat. After she had swallowed with some difficulty, she spoke again, "Ye ain't like the others. Ye mind me askin' why not?"  
Bootstrap liked the girl's inquisitiveness. She reminded him a bit of Will, his son.  
"I haven't ever called meself one o' this crew. I'm doomed to sail forever on this hulk. How long is your sentence?"  
Bree shrugged, saying, "Dunno, mate. I never agreed to anythin'. Jones forced me into the crew. An' I don't know why, seein' as how I'm a girl an' all."  
Bootstrap shrugged back, answering, "'E likes breakin' hard, wild spirits, mate. He knows ye're wild. An' I think he might respect that."  
Bree laughed grimly, pushing her tankard away, "Aye, an' fish might roost in trees. 'E just likes torturin' me. But I ain't willin', and I ain't ever gonna take orders from 'im. I'll stand up to 'im and do 'im in one day!"  
Bootstrap admired Bree's fire and courage, but he had to speak reason, "Ye're a fine young maid, Bree. I can tell by lookin' at ye that ye can fight as well as a man, but Jones is the fiercest pirate to sail these seas. Ye can't beat 'im. Besides, 'e can't die."  
Bree slumped back, dejected. Then she looked up at Bootstrap, "Ye mind me askin' how you got 'ere?"  
Bootstrap nodded, "I was a member o' the Black Pearl's crew."  
Bree gasped, "The Black Pearl? Blow me, I've 'eard stories o' her since I was no more 'n a li'l girl! The crew o' the Goresail told me those tales! Barbossa an' 'is lads an' the cursed gold? An' Jack Sparrow…did ye know 'im?"  
Bootstrap nodded again, "Aye, I knew 'im. But I didn't hold wi' the mutiny, so Barbossa sent me overboard with a cannon strapped to me. But I was cursed an' couldn't die."  
Bree shuddered, just imagining what that would be like. Bootstrap continued, "Jones found me an' made an' offer. An' I accepted it. So here I am."  
Bree crossed her arms, "I'd rather die than serve here. I hate Jones…"  
Bootstrap chuckled, "I think we all do."  
Bree turned back to Bootstrap, "I thought the curse was lifted a year ago? That's what I heard, and the Isla de Muerta sank beneath the sea, along with the cursed treasure."  
Bootstrap nodded, suddenly looking proud, "Aye, Jack an' Will ended it."  
Bree looked confused, "Who's Will?"  
"My son. I was reunited only a year ago with him." Bootstrap suddenly blinked away a tear, "He's dead, now. The Kraken…it killed him."  
Bree felt sympathy flood through her. She placed her hand on Bootstrap's shoulder, saying softly, "I'm sorry…what about Jack?"  
"Jack? Poor old Sparrow…he-" Bootstrap didn't finish.  
The bosun stomped up behind Bree and hauled her up by her hair, grabbing the back of her neck and twisting hard. Bree yelped but turned, sinking her teeth into the bosun's claw. Cursing, the monster slapped her hard across the face, snarling, "Shape up, bilgerat! Time to get to work! No time for idlers!"  
Bree growled but saw the bosun fingering his scourge. She moved past, looking back at Bootstrap, giving him a smile. He was her mate. So was everyone else, but he was her friend. And that was the difference.  
"Aye…that's the difference mate," she said to herself as she climbed up to the deck.


	3. You aren't your own

Chapter III  
"You aren't your own"

Bree had done it at last. Jones had been expecting it. Near the middle of the day, she had tried to jump ship. She had been hauling up some tackle. She had suddenly swung a hard belaying pin at the nearest crewmember, thrown the rope down and scrambled to the railing in the stern. Unfortunately for her, Jones had stationed one of his crew to watch her every movement.  
Bree was dragged into Jones' cabin, one side of her face bloodied and scored with five clawmarks. She was thrown down, and Jones looked up at the bosun, "Leave."  
After the bosun left, Jones strode over to Bree, nudging her with his remaining foot, "Get up."  
Bree slowly rose, wiping blood from her eyes. She didn't dare look at her captain. Most likely he would have her killed. She did, however, look at the room. A huge organ took up the far corner, and pipes made from coral surrounded them, varying in size. She had never seen anything like it, but her attention was brought back to Jones.  
Jones surprised her. He put his claw under her chin, forcing her to look up. He examined the scarred side of her face, grinning with satisfaction, "That'll leave marks, girl."  
Bree bravely said, "Aye, more reminders that I've got to kill ye!"  
Jones thrust Bree backwards, laughing harshly. He sat down, saying roughly, "That was a foolish thing to do. Ye're brave, I'll give ye that. But no one's ever escaped this ship an' lived."  
Bree snarled, answering, "Don't think that'll discourage me! Ye can't hold me here!"  
Jones turned his back on Bree, as if he hadn't heard her. Bree's eyes strayed to the hilt of his broadsword. No, it would do no good. She couldn't kill him. That's what Bootstrap had said.  
Bree started to step backwards, but Jones whirled around, "Stay where ye are, whelp!"  
Bree froze, not daring to move as Jones's watery blue eyes examined her. Suddenly, he spoke in an almost conversational tone, "Tell me, how are yer mates treatin' ye?"  
Bree was shocked, but answered, "Well…" Then she thought, I'll show 'im I ain't phased by any o' this!  
"Fine…I can deal with 'em. That rat ye've got for a bosun ain't too skilled with a whip."  
Jones mused on this, then said, "Well, ye're bein' very kind, offerin' to help 'im practice." He stood and grabbed her arm in his vice-like grip.  
Bree set her jaw tight, showing fearlessness. Then her eyes strayed to Jones' organ. A small space for charting and writing was laid out beside it. She spotted something…a heart-shaped metal piece. She looked at it without realizing why.  
Jones noticed this. He followed her gaze. Wrath suddenly filled him and his tentacles began tensing and writhing. He struck Bree across the face, hissing, "Stop gawkin', weevil!"  
Frog marching her to the door, Jones pushed her out onto the deck, following after. The crew stopped, turning expectantly.  
"Lads, I'm sad to tell ye that Miss Bree here isn't too pleased with the conditions of her stay here," said Jones, his voice filled with mock pity. The crew all laughed as he continued, "But, bein' the kind, thoughtful young lady she is, she's decided to give ye all some sport." He thrust her forward, and the bosun grabbed Bree by the neck, dragging her to the grating.  
Bree looked around wildly, spotting Bootstrap. She only got one look at him before she was slammed hard against the grating and her hands bound. Once again her tattered jerkin was wrenched from her and the bosun readied his scourge, brought back his arm and snapped it forward.  
Once more, Bree didn't make a sound.

Bree lay in her hammock, her bleeding back bared. Bootstrap stood over her, tending her, "This'll sting."  
Bree felt coolness pressed to her back, but the pain was so intense she gave a sharp gasp.  
"Hold fast, mate. It's just salt. I know it hurts but it'll clean those stripes."  
Bree clenched her fists around the canvas of her hammock, managing, "Why are you here?"  
"I thought we were mates, now," Bootstrap said with a slight smile.  
Bree gasped in pain again, answering, "Aye, but couldn't ye get in trouble for helpin' me?"  
Bootstrap chuckled, "They can't exactly do anythin' more to me."  
Bree looked around, asking again, "Where are the others?"  
"Up on deck. The cruel blighters…ye passed out after the fourth dozen," Bootstrap added in an admiring voice, "I didn't know a girl could handle so much."  
Bree gave out a hoarse, groaning laugh, "Aye, I can handle anythin' Jones throws at me."  
Bootstrap smiled fondly. This girl was so much like Will. He banished a threatening tear and continued to tend to Bree.  
Bree slipped into a fitful sleep as Bootstrap worked, but soon felt someone shaking her gently. Bootstrap whispered to her, "The others are comin'." He handed her her jerkin and she slipped it on, rising from her hammock. She smiled gratefully at Bootstrap and then slipped over to a corner.  
Greenbeard was the first to spot the young pirate. He grinned, whispering something to his mates and pointing. Bree could still see the cruelness in their eyes, but she also saw…what was it…  
They were impressed.

Bree was back to work the next day, her entire body one massive ache. She was strong, but the work set out for her here was almost too much. Her limbs and abdomen were on fire with pains and cramps, but she worked on.  
Of course she got her share of the whip when she slacked. Water wasn't very plentiful, and Bree's tongue cleaved to the top of her mouth, aching for some relief. She actually tried catching some sea spray in her mouth, not caring if the water was salty, but that only made her thirstier.  
Bree was busy mending one of the sails, not able to keep a good grip due to the algae and seaweed coating the canvas. She looked down, startled by what she saw.  
The captain was out on deck, but he was watching her. His eyes never left her. And even though she was far from the deck, she could feel his gaze penetrating her. It unnerved her. Scooting to the side, she hid behind the mast, shutting her eyes tight as if to block out Jones' stare.  
Bree wasn't minding where she was stepping, she was so unnerved. Suddenly, her foot slipped on the moss around the sail and she began to fall. She grabbed onto one of the filthy ropes of rigging, but it did no good, as it too was covered in slime.  
Bree gave out a yell as she hurtled down. She slammed into the deck, pain lancing through her back. However, a fall like that would have killed her, or at least broken a bone. But nothing happened.  
Bree scrambled up, limping slightly. Bootstrap was by her side, steadying her, saying, "Are ye alright, mate?"  
Bree nodded shakily, "Aye…why ain't I dead?"  
Bootstrap explained, "Once ye're one o' this crew ye're undead."  
Bree looked at Bootstrap, not believing this. She knew the others were undead, but she…  
Anger flared up in Bree's flaming blue eyes. She turned her stare towards Jones, clenching her fists. Jones met her gaze calmly. This drove Bree into a frenzy. How could he be so calm? So cruel? So sadistic?  
Bree, still too angry to think clearly, began stomping over to Jones, her teeth bared in a snarl. Jones didn't flinch. He seemed to expect this.  
Bree went right up to Jones, looking straight up at him. Two pairs of intense blue eyes stared each other, never flinching.  
Bree snarled, saying, "You enjoyed that, didn't ye?"  
Jones answered in a calm voice, "I think everyone did, lass."  
Bree clenched her fists, growling, "What ever made ye so heartless, mate?"  
Bootstrap spoke behind her, actually daring to answer, "He has no heart."  
Jones' gaze snapped to Bootstrap, and he growled, "Shut yer mouth, Turner!"  
Bree suddenly grinned, saying, "I knew that…it's buried on an island…"  
Jones struck her across the face, but she didn't flinch, "Ye cut it out yerself, mate. Don't blame me for it."  
Bree leaped back before Jones could touch her. She then turned, saying, "I'm goin' back to work…sir."  
Jones looked at Bree, feeling his emotions battle within him. Part of him couldn't help but admire this girl. She was a true pirate, brave, strong, tough. But he loathed her as well. She threatened his authority with every act of defiance. She was so much like…no!  
Banishing these thoughts, Jones turned away, returning his thoughts to the present.

Bree worked beside Bootstrap the rest of the day, asking him questions when the captain wasn't near, "Why does the captain always look at me? Ain't he got enough to worry about besides a new crewmember?"  
"I think he…well, is a bit unnerved by ye, mate."  
Bree was surprised, "Why?"  
"Ye stood up to 'im. Normally one look at 'im sends pirates reelin' to the deck. I don't think 'e's ever had anyone stand up to 'im before." Bootstrap explained.  
Bree looked determined, "Well, 'e'll have to get used to it."

The Flying Dutchman had caught up with another unfortunate ship. It was a merchant ship, the Seabuck. Bree stood at the railing, looking out over the water with the others. She looked up at the bosun, asking, "What'll cap'n do? Are we goin' to board 'er?"  
"Aye, mate. An' if I know cap'n, 'e'll leave no survivors," answered the bosun, grinning eagerly.  
Bree was a pirate. It was in her blood to thieve and kill. She felt a certain eagerness about it, but she came from honest stock. She wasn't keen on mindless, pointless killing.  
Bree turned as the captain came to stand beside her. She looked up at him expectantly.  
"Time to show if ye're a real pirate or not, Bree," said Jones, and to Bree's surprise, he handed her her broadsword. Bree took it, fondling the hilt and actually mumbling, "Th…thank ye!"  
Jones sneered and cuffed her back to reality, "Best not try an' get away. I'll be watchin' ye."  
Bree looked up, her eyes back to their normal fire, "Ye think I've got any place to go?"  
Strapping her broadsword to her back, Bree looked back at the opposing ship. First they would cripple her with the cannons, then use grapnels and board her. She grinned. At last, some real piratin'!  
"Make ready the guns!"

"Cast loose!"  
Bree cast loose her gun, signaling for her mate carrying the powder cartridge.  
"Run out!"  
Bree hauled on the ropes, bringing the cannon's nose forward out through the hole. She stepped back, covering her ears as her partner held out the fuse.  
"Fire!"  
The sound of the cannon fire was deafening. Bree didn't even flinch, used to it now. She was safely out of the way as the cannon leaped back. Bree looked out, pleased to see that they had made a hit. Straight through the mast!  
Bree heard Jones' voice on deck, "Prepare to board!"  
Bree scrambled up on deck, wiping soot and grime from her face. She grabbed a grapnel and began whirling it. She then let go, watching her grapnel sail through the air to land amid the rigging. Before swinging over to the other ship, she cast a look at Jones. He looked straight back at her, his eyes hard. Bree simply nodded, acknowledging his silent warning. She then leaped forward, swinging through the air and skillfully landing on the deck of the Seabuck.  
Bree looked around, noticing that no one was following her. She looked confused, until one of the crew members emerged from the ship's cracked mast, as if he had grown from it. Ah yes, now she remembered. That's how they did things.  
Bree looked around, unsheathing her sword. She saw the merchant sailors staring in horror at all the others. One or two glanced her way but she only got strange stares. Why would a young girl be in the crew of the Flying Dutchman? They'll find out, Bree thought grimly.  
Leaping forward, Bree brought her sword slamming into one of the sailors, slaying him instantly. Captain said no survivors. No survivors it was.  
Bree stepped over the felled man and ran forward, actually smiling. Piratin'! Aye, mate, this was it!  
Jones stood on the deck of the Dutchman, watching Bree. He was impressed. She was a ruthless fighter. A true pirate! He had underestimated her.  
Bree slashed madly away at the sailors, leaving none alive as her crewmates did the same. At last, all were slain. Bree stood amid the carnage, cleaning her sword. One of the crew actually slapped her on the back good-naturedly. Bree grinned back at him, her emotions unstable.  
Greenbeard emerged from the hold, dragging a young boy with him. He threw him to the deck, calling to Bree, "Kill 'im, missy!"  
Bree looked up in horror. No, she wouldn't kill a child!  
Bree shook her head, saying bravely, "No. Let the child go. 'E ain't a threat. Let 'im go."  
Bree suddenly felt herself grasped by the back of the neck and whirled around. Jones gripped her neck hard, his eyes like chips of ice as he said almost calmly, "Showin' a soft spot, eh, Miss Bree?"  
Bree struggled but it was no use. She managed, "I ain't gonna kill a child."  
Jones shrugged, motioning to Greenbeard. Bree was whirled around again and forced to watch Greenbeard skewer the child on her own sword. Bree gave a roar of outrage, "Ye cruel-"  
Jones flung her forward, calling to the bosun, "Once we're back aboard the Dutchman bring that rat to my cabin."  
Bree picked herself up from the deck, horror rising in her. Not to that pit again!  
Jimmylegs bent to pick Bree up, but she slapped the bosun's hand away, snarling, "Don't touch me!"  
Jimmylegs backed off, grinning wickedly. He fingered his scourge expectantly. Bree pulled herself up, looking around. If there was anything of worth on this ship, she wouldn't have any share in it. She watched as Jones seemed to morph over to the Dutchman. She shuddered, looking away.  
Palifico suddenly grabbed Bree by the collar, dragging her toward the railing. Bree was frog marched straight into the side, only to find herself suddenly on board the Dutchman. She shook off her escort, a little shaken. She then looked at the door to Jones' cabin. She shuddered again, not wanting to imagine what punishment awaited. Did Jones have no mercy at all?  
Jimmylegs grabbed Bree but she shook him off again, saying, "I can walk on me own!" She went fearlessly into the cabin, seeing Jones standing there like an executioner waiting for his victim. She should be used to this by now.  
Jones didn't speak for a while, and simply stood examining Bree, as if trying to guess her thoughts, his eyes boring into her. Bree shifted uncomfortably, squirming under his intense stare.  
Jones' harsh voice made Bree jump, "I don't like a rebel, missy."  
Bree felt her mouth trembling, but she looked up, "Then ye must hate me! I ain't about to start takin' those kinds of orders from ye!" She remembered the body of the boy, her own sword through him.  
Jones stayed calm, even smiling as if he found her defiance to be amusing. He motioned for Jimmylegs to leave again, and then strode closer to Bree. He bent down, his eyes at her level, and scrutinized her. Bree tried not to flinch, but it was too terrifying to face.  
At last Jones spoke, "Whatever brought ye to piratin', girl?"  
Bree thought it a strange question, but she answered anyway, still not looking at Jones, "I wanted to. Where I came from all the boys wouldn't leave me alone. An' I was too wild to be a lady."  
Jones thingyed his head, "Boys wouldn't leave ye alone? Ye wouldn't want to become a wife to some fine young man?"  
Bree looked up, fire in her eyes, "No! Would you want to be a husband, anchored down in one place to some girl? Anyone who does is a fool!"  
Bree stepped back. A spasm of pain shook Jones, and his mouth opened as if he was short of breath. His eyes clouded. But he shook himself, saying in a rough voice, "No…no, I wouldn't! I'll agree that love is for fools." Bree could still see that his eyes had grown very dark and misty.  
Bree was a very perceptive young girl. A slow, cruel smile spread across her lips as she spoke in an almost satisfied tone, "I see it now…it hurts to talk about it!"  
Jones' head snapped around, his tentacles bristling and turning purple with rage. He bared his teeth at Bree and snarled, "I don't know what ye're talkin' about! Now stop talkin' out of place, rat!"  
But Bree was too fired by the exhilaration that she had found Jones' weakness. She jeered, "I suppose ye don't like girls for one reason, aye?"  
Jones gave a vicious roar and grabbed Bree around the throat, squeezing so hard that Bree actually passed out from lack of air.  
Jones dropped Bree to the floor, stepping back, his eyes on fire. Anger mixed with agony filled him as regret battled with fury. How could she be so…so wild? She was a constant threat, a constant source of frustration, a constant reminder. Her spirit. She was wild. Untamable.  
She was like…her.  
Jones hated Bree. He hated her! He vowed he would make her service on this ship as miserable as possible. She would suffer for what she didn't do. She would be the scapegoat for his hatred of all females. She would be what he vented his fury and agony on.  
Jones lifted Bree and slung her over his shoulder like a rag doll. He carried her out to the deck, dropping her roughly and calling to Koleniko, "Keep this rat on no rations for three days." Koleniko grinned, nodding, "Aye, captain."

Bree woke about an hour later. Bootstrap was rubbing a dirty, seawater drenched rag over her brow. Bree moaned, her head throbbing. She counted about three new bruises, but the total amount she had was higher than she could count. She settled back down in her hammock, asking in a weary voice, "How long 'ave I been out?"  
"Only an hour," Bootstrap answered, wringing out the cloth. He stood, holding out his hand, "Time ye were up, mate. I heard Cap'n say that if'n ye weren't up within the next hour 'e'd come down hisself an' drag ye out on deck."  
Bree allowed Bootstrap to haul her out of her hammock, shaking herself to wake up fully. She wiped her eyes, trying to get the sleep from them and to open them fully. She then looked around, asking, "What's that noise?"  
Bootstrap grinned, "Cap'n must've 'it ye hard. Ain't ye recognizin' it by now? Cap'n's playin' 'is fancy instrument agin."  
Bree grimaced as the noise was magnified in her aching brain, her temples throbbing. She groaned, "Why does 'e play that thing?"  
Bootstrap shrugged, "Maybe 'e likes it."  
"But 'e plays the same ol' song!"  
Bootstrap didn't say anything after that, so Bree didn't press it. She pulled on her jerkin, making her way up to the deck again. She touched the hilt of her sword for comfort. Jones had surprisingly not taken it from her after they had attacked the Seabuck.  
Looking out over the horizon, Bree could see the usual; endless expanses of water. She didn't remember the last time she had seen land.  
Bree saw the captain and Jimmylegs standing near the railing, both of them talking in low voices. Suddenly, Jimmylegs turned, catching sight of Bree. He said something and pointed. Jones turned, glanced at Bree, and then turned again.  
Bree knew they were discussing her. She moved towards the stern, only to run into Wheelback at the helm as she passed. Wheelback, always looking for opportunities to entertain his sadistic sense of humor at her expense, stuck out his foot, tripping Bree. Bree luckily caught herself, but her hands and wrists were jarred from the fall.  
Angry, Bree picked herself up and turned to Wheelback, snarling, "What was that for?"  
Wheelback shrugged, answering smugly, "Dunno, missy. Besides, what are ye goin' to do about it?"  
Bree moved quickly. She dodged behind him, grabbing one handle on the wheel fused to his back and yanking hard. Wheelback howled in agony as the fusion seams were stretched. Bree moved back, answering his jibe with a wonderful retort, "I'm goin' to change course."  
Bree now did the sensible thing; disappear. She knew that Wheelback's yelp would have alerted Jimmylegs, if not Jones himself. She crept down to the bow, maneuvering around the others. She often did this if she needed a short rest from the day's troubles.  
Climbing down the sides and onto the bowsprits, Bree ducked her head, edging out farther. She then relaxed, hiding in the jaws of the Flying Dutchman. She would stay here for a few minutes, and then go back to work. Leaning back, she swung her foot out over the water, spray occasionally reaching high enough to dampen her. She closed her eyes, pretending she wasn't on the Dutchman anymore. It was the Goresail.  
However, this fantasy had to end, as she forced herself to climb back up and slip over the sides when no one was looking her way. At least she had avoided the captain and the bosun. They must have ignored Wheelback's little fit.  
Bree looked out over the waves again, suddenly focusing on a small shape to the right. A sail!  
Bree instinctively gave the call, "Sail ho!"  
The captain was instantly on deck, "Where away?"  
"Off the starboard beam!" was Bree's answer.  
Jones had his glass out and peered through, examining the approaching ship. Bree waited anxiously, chewing on her lip. Every ship presented two opportunities for her; escape or a good fight.  
Quittance came to stand beside Bree, looking out over the water to where Bree pointed. He turned, "Aye, Cap'n, she's a naval frigate!"  
Bree's spine tingled when she heard that. A frigate! There would be a real fight now!  
Making sure her sword was secured onto her back, Bree grinned eagerly, looking over her right shoulder. Clanker stood behind her, and Bree said almost cheerily, "We gonna fight 'er?"  
Clanker shrugged, "Don't know. Can't ever tell wi' th' naval ships, mate."  
Bree was confused. She looked over at Jones, who was still looking through his glass at the ship. Why would he back off from a naval ship?  
"No battle here, lads," called Jones, and despite all the disappointed groans, the crew didn't challenge his decision. Bree had learned by now to keep her tongue.  
Maccus joined Jones, "We goin' down, Cap'n?"  
The captain nodded, "Aye. Give the order."  
Maccus turned and boomed out, "Down!"  
Bree almost fell over as the ship lurched crazily, tilting down towards the bow. The bowsprits were submerged and water quickly rushed up to meet Bree. Horror filled her. The ship was going down! Down to the depths!  
Bree grabbed onto the mast as the water hit her like a…well, a wave. She held on tight, her hair streaming out behind her and bubbles coming up in a string from her mouth. She then let go, realizing that now she could escape! She pushed off, but found herself falling back to the deck. It was like she wasn't even underwater! She could walk about as easily here as she could on land! She couldn't swim up either! And she found that she wasn't short of breath or…or even needing to breath!  
Horrified and frightened by this, Bree touched the hilt of her sword to comfort herself, looking around at the others. Orders were still being given out, and even if the sound was a little garbled, speech was possible underwater.  
Several, actually most, of the crew watched Bree's reaction, including Jones. They all elbowed eachother and smirked, seeing her wide eyes.  
At last, the Dutchman leveled off underwater, near the seabed. Bree looked up, seeing the light break down through the surface, a beautiful spectacle. But she was soon snapped back to reality, as there was work to do. Bree went about her chores, still not able to understand how it was possible to crew a submerged ship!

Bree was exhausted. She may have found a new ability to move about freely underwater, but there was still resistance and pressure of the water crushing down on her. Her shoulders and arms aches as well as her thighs. She had simply collapsed on deck, curling up in a corner and falling asleep. The others didn't bother to move her.  
Jones had seen Bree curled up on a coil of rope. He bent down to observe her, curiosity coming over him. How long had it been since he'd ever seen a girl? Centuries, at least. He didn't exactly want to see one. Bree was a pretty girl, but she wasn't a lady at all. She was too wild. She was…and wasn't…like his lady.  
Jones brushed these memories away, reasoning with himself, She's a rotten li'l bilge rat. I should give 'er nothin' but the whip. But he was impressed with her. She was tough and capable. And she wasn't afraid of him. She had shown amazing adaptation to her life here, and she could handle the crew. They were slowly beginning to let her go her own way.  
Jones hardened, reminding himself that she was a threat. He had a dilemma on his hands. If he killed her, it would be like taking the easy way out. If he let her shout her threats and weave distrust and rebellion, he'd lose face before his crew. Best break her spirit now.  
Jones rose, turning to go back to his cabin. Another thing troubled him. When Bootstrap's son, Will Turner, had been on his ship, he had brought back memories of a younger, lovestruck Davy Jones. Now this girl was bringing back memories of…her.  
Jones clenched his claw, entering his cabin. He looked toward his large organ. He was a fine musician. He was self taught, but only knew one song. He sighed. Making music was his only escape.  
Jones' tune spread throughout the ship, and it drifted into Bree's dreams. The captain stood over her, looking down at her with piercing blue eyes. He was saying something, but Bree couldn't make it out. Then she saw a small heart-shaped object. She was strangely drawn to it. In her dream she moved forward, her hands reaching for the object, but she was jerked to the side, and then fell into endless darkness. As she fell, she could hear Jones' taunting voice booming out.  
"You aren't your own."


	4. The Flying Dutchman's Crewgirl

Chapter IV  
"The Flying Dutchman's crewgirl."

Bree stood at the helm, turning it gently as she viewed her surroundings. Strange to see land in the distance. How long had it been? Four months? Aye, four months.  
Bree watched the stars, smiling slightly. Stars. Her only real link to the rest of life. The only things of beauty. She had mentioned this to Bootstrap. "Aye, 'tis like ye're transported to a whole new world. A world with no rules…no bonds…no cap'n."  
Bree rotated the wheel softly, her face darkening along with the sky as the moon and stars were hidden in dark clouds.   
The young girl wasn't at all surprised when the organ started up again. Jones must be in one of his moods again. He'd been like that lately. He would go all cloudy eyed and suddenly disappear into his cabin for hours at a time, sometimes silent and other times playing away at his instrument. Bree had grown to love his music, in spite of herself. It was a truly beautiful tune. There must be a story behind it. Surely Jones didn't write it!  
Bree listened to the beloved tune and began humming along with it. Bree was a musician herself and appreciated good skill in music. She had even set her own words to Jones' tune to sing softly when she was alone and he played. She sang them now, her voice ringing out soft but clear:  
"O'er restless seas, through storm an' gale,  
Sail I, the wanderin' soul, fore'er.  
Cursed to die, abandoned sailor,  
My freedom turned to a cell.

I am this ship, I'm part of her,  
Bound to serve, no rest in sight.  
My heart, it aches for freedom's light.  
My debt will ne'er be paid.

No mates have I, no friends to love,  
No loyalty to give away.  
Leashed an' chained, my soul's not free,  
My cap'n cruel an' heartless.

Wind an' rain, fog an' gale,  
None increase my misery.  
Jones has deemed I serve his cause,  
I have no choice or will.

Mortal, human, girl or lass,  
My place among the living passed.  
My soul belongs to Davy Jones,  
Unwillin' an' unforgivin'.

Cursed to crew one hundred years,  
Five score as nothin' more than sin.  
Doomed to wear the brand I bear,  
The Flying Dutchman's crewgirl."

Her song finished as the organ stopped. Everything went eerily quiet, and Bree could hear her heart beating in her ears. She suddenly heard a noise. The captain was coming on deck.  
Jones swung his cabin door open, looking at the girl at the helm, his eyes hard and cold. He had heard her song. He could hear everything that went on in his ship. But her song reflected almost everything he felt in his own heart. Freedom. What was that again? She gave him a glimpse of it.  
Bree looked straight back at her captain, trying to remain unfazed. She then broke her gaze, looking down at her hands which were clasped tightly around the wheel.  
Jones growled and retreated back to his cabin, shutting the door behind him. He wouldn't come back out tonight.

Bree wiped cold, icy sweat from her forehead. Her heart was still beating wildly. Something she had said…her song? Surely he didn't hear it! But…that look he gave her.  
Bootstrap came on deck, tapping Bree, "Go an' get some sleep, mate. I'm to relieve ye."  
Bree nodded gratefully. She stifled a yawn, taking one last look at the stars. Then she descended down into the hold.  
Bree climbed into her hammock, brushing away any barnacles or sea creatures. She pulled a sea urchin from the canvas and tossed it away, gathering her blanket and situating herself as comfortably as possible. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sounds of her mates' snores. She quickly fell asleep.

Bree woke in the middle of the night, a searing pain coursing through her back. She had never felt anything like it before, and it wasn't anything like the sting of a whip, so she knew it couldn't be the bosun tormenting her again.  
As Bree lifted herself up on her arms, she twisted her back, but cried out in agony. She twisted up her face, gutting up the pain and leaning her head back to see what had happened. What she saw horrified her. Long, jagged pike dorsal fins were growing from her back! She could see them tearing through her shirt. Blood was crusting around them as they stabbed their way upwards through her skin. And she could see them rising! Soon they would be fully grown!  
Bree was in too much pain to rise. She had a good four hours till dawn, but she couldn't sleep. The pain was too intense. She lay on her stomach, biting her hammock to keep from crying out.  
That morning, some of the crew stood around the hammock, laughing as they saw the fins sprouting from Bree's back. Some said, "Now ye're truly part o' this crew!" Others actually prodded her back, causing her even more pain.  
When she had to rise or face the whip, Bree forced herself to arch her back and climb down from her hammock. She flexed her back, feeling the fins straighten and then flatten. Good, at least they would lie flat.  
Of course, following their normal cruel behavior, one of the crewmembers had stolen Bree's jerkin, and she had to go without it, leaving her fins visible. She dreaded to think what the captain would say. He would gloat and jeer at her, she knew it.  
Bree, after she had been given her vittles, went to a solitary corner, drinking her grog deeply, dehydrated from all the sweat that had come from the fins breaking through. She then ate her small portion, glad to have it.  
The day began as usual, with lots of hard work laid out for Bree. But she was used to it now. She had done hard work on the Goresail, and now she had grown even stronger working on the Dutchman. She was busy hauling up some rigging and tackle when the captain appeared on deck. Bree swore as her hands slipped, but she gripped harder, praying that the captain wouldn't see her.  
But Jones was always aware of her presence. His eyes swung to her, and he grinned in triumph when he saw the fins spreading as Bree's back flexed. He was breaking her!  
Bree felt sweat dripping down into the open cracks in her back, stinging and causing her to bite her lips so hard that she drew blood. Her muscles strained as she hauled harder, ignoring the jibes thrown at her.  
"Somethin' a bit fishy today, mate?"  
"Maybe she's turnin' into one o' those mermaids' uglier cousins!"  
"What, a Kelpie?"  
"Don't matter what they're called, but she's turnin' to one!"  
Bree bared her teeth, biting back the angry words she was about to issue.  
Palifico went behind Bree and ripped a length of chain from Ratlin's back. He then threw it forward, and it clanked around Bree's shoulders, going across her chest. Unable to grab it fast enough, Bree found herself tugging uselessly at the chain. She couldn't pull it off! Part of it had fused into her shoulders.  
Bree pushed back her hair, which had recently been getting very course, like seaweed. Another sea urchin moved out from the folds of her jerkin to stick into her skin. She winced, pulling it out and flinging it down. She saw Crash and grabbed his three-cornered hat, jamming it onto her head. At least it would hide the strange transformation her hair was undergoing.  
Clanker stood at the railing, watching as Bree tried again to remove the chain from across her chest. Thinking he would join in the fun, he took one of his weapons, a ball and chain, and began swinging it, ready to hurl it at Bree. He stepped closer and then let go.  
Bree was slammed to the side as the ball and chain wrapped around her legs, slamming into them. If she hadn't been undead, her leg would have been splintered. It still hurt, but she managed to wriggle up, anger in her face. She unleashed a roar and turned to Clanker, going down on all fours and pouncing. But Clanker was saved. Another chain was looped around Bree's neck from behind. She was yanked back, falling flat on the deck.  
Maccus held the end of the chain, his axe out. Jones stood beside him, watching everything with great interest. He looked at the ball and chain still entangled around Bree's feet and the chain fused into her back, "Couldn't handle it, missy?" He laughed along with his crew, bending down and taking the hat from Bree's head and handing it back to Crash.  
Bree snarled and flipped over, this time trying to attack her captain, but Maccus pulled her like a tiger on a leash. Bree had blood bubbling from the corners of her mouth, mixed with foam. She was panting, breath going in and out with a harsh, grating, almost snarling sound. She went limp as a foot was placed on her neck. She was then hauled up.  
Maccus held his axe over his head. Bree braced herself as Oldhaddy grabbed her chain and pulled it taut. Maccus brought the axe slashing down.  
Clang!  
The sound of metal hitting metal made Bree's neck hairs rise. The chain around her neck was freed from the long length, but a small bit trailed down her back. She tried to remove the collar, but it too was partly fused into her. Bree gave a half sob half growl. The weight of both chains was too cruel!  
Jones hauled Bree up by the loose length of chain, laughing and speaking loud enough for all to hear, "Well, seems the wild 'un has a leash at last!" Cruel, harsh laughs greeted this. Bree bared her teeth, her eyes wild. She tensed her muscles, ready to spring. But she saw Bootstrap standing a ways behind Jones. He looked at her, shaking his head. There was no point in fighting Davy Jones.  
Bree backed off, growling like a beaten dog as she wrenched her chain away, managing to break one or two of the links to make it shorter and not as hindering.  
Jones stepped back, watching the girl. A part of him was relishing the fact that she was in agony and that her emotions were most likely unstable. But another part of him was slightly disappointed. He had expected her to act somewhat submissive. But she was just as fiery and rebellious as ever. She was one to be admired.  
Jones shook these thoughts from his head and turned to attend to his other duties.

Bree was inconsolable. Bootstrap had comforted her as best he could, but she couldn't stop weeping. She was no longer human, no longer among the living. Bootstrap let her cry, eventually putting his hand under her chin and lifting her face. He wiped her tears away and said, "It's all right, mate. We all go through this. But ye don't have to lose hope!"  
Bree sniffed, biting on her hands to keep from crying more. She at last settled down, still hiccupping and giving occasional sniffles. She retreated to the hold that evening, hoping to get some peace and quiet.  
When the crew all congregated in the hold, Bree was relieved to find that they weren't bothering her. They realized that she had had enough. She wouldn't take any more. And that night, Bree slept, uninterrupted.

Bree sat cross-legged, watching a group of her mates playing Liar's Dice. She took a swig of a bottle of rum she had been lucky enough to find. She was slowly becoming accustomed to life here. It had been almost half a year!  
Bree took another deep swig of rum and then settled down to watch, licking her lips. The three crewmembers, Ogilvey, Wheelback and Angler shook up their cups and slammed them down on the table. Bree watched them tip their cups up and start wagering.  
"Three sixes!" called Angler, looking at the others.  
"Four twos," said Wheelback.  
Bree scooted closer behind Ogilvey, looking at his dice. He had two fives, a six and two ones.  
Bree lost interest in the game soon after. She still watched but didn't try to keep up. It was easy to know who lost. Normally a growl or snarl would announce the loser's identity. Bree had played the game before. She was really rather good at it. Of course this made no difference, but it gained a little of the crew's respect.  
Bree looked up as Jimmylegs sat down beside her, a bottle in his claws. He grinned at her, holding out his bottle, "Cheers, eh?"  
Bree sullenly clanked her drink against his, taking a long gulp. She swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Jimmylegs looked at her strangely, and then gave out a hoarse laugh, "Lookit that, mate!"  
Bree looked down. She gasped. Her hands were growing paw-like, with retractable claws! She still had fingers, but they looked unnatural! Bree hissed through her teeth, running her tongue across them. Then she stopped. Her teeth were growing into fangs!  
Bree shot up, giving out a roar of horror. The game stopped and those watching looked up at her. Bree felt their hostile glares on her. She bared her new fangs at them and hissed, then turned and retreated to a corner, clutching her rum to herself protectively.  
Jeers were hard to dodge, and at last Bree left the hold. Only one or two of the crew was on the deck, so she made her way up and sat down by the railing, looking out over the waters, still pulling at her drink.  
Bree heard footsteps coming near her. She froze. The captain. She cursed inwardly. She would rather face the crew than Jones!  
But there was no escape now. Jones had found her. He stood over her, assessing her. He knew she was going through the normal transition from human to monster. He grinned, his tentacles waving jeeringly at Bree.  
Bree refused to look at her captain, her jaw set tight. When he didn't leave, she looked up, actually daring to bare her teeth at him and snarl, "Stop gloating! I've had a hard enough time as it is!"  
Jones laughed softly, sitting down next to Bree. Bree scooted away, disgust on her features. She clenched her teeth together, her jaw tensing. She clutched the bottle of drink to herself, as if it would protect her.  
"Ye're a part o' this crew now, Bree," Jones said, not looking at her, "Ye can't call yerself free anymore."  
Bree's hackles rose. She glared at her captain, growling, "Liar! I ain't a true part o' this crew!"  
"Ye've been on this ship for four months. Yer soul belongs to me."  
Bree rose, her hand instinctively going for her sword hilt as she snarled, "My soul is me own! An' it don't belong to a squid-faced barnacle-coated ole pirate!"  
Jones rose, striking Bree hard across the face with his claw, and Bree stumbled to the side, but didn't cry out. She looked at him again, hissing, "I ain't afraid o' ye, sir." She said this last bit with contempt.  
Jones laughed again, spitting out scornfully, "Yer bravery is foolish, girl. Once ye've become one of the crew, there's no leavin' it."  
Bree stood up straight, but as tall as she was, Jones was two heads taller than her. But she stared up into his eyes fearlessly, growling, "I ain't part o' this crew, yet, mate. I may be bound to it physically, but me soul an' me mind an' spirit are all free!"  
Jones thingyed his head, saying, "Touchin' speech, missy. Ye'd best git below afore I have ye flogged. Or worse…" He fingered the hilt of his broadsword.  
Bree knew it was foolish to provoke him. He knew she wasn't afraid of him. But she needed to be fit, and a fractured spine wouldn't do her any good.  
Still snarling, Bree descended back down to the hold, ignoring the others. She sat down in her usual corner. Bootstrap came to sit beside her.  
Bree looked up at her only friend, tears in her eyes, "I'm becomin' a monster, Bootstrap!"  
Bootstrap patted her back comfortingly, saying, "We all become like this eventually. But ye can still be different from the others!"  
Bree wiped her eyes, looking determined again, "Aye…an' I may be bound to the Dutchman, but I won't ever give Jones my soul!"


	5. The Heart

Chapter V  
The Heart

Bree had a plan.  
It wasn't a very good plan, but she had nothing to lose. She hadn't told Bootstrap, because he would have tried to stop her. But Bree didn't care if she was caught. Jones couldn't really do anything to her, and her back was toughened from her frequent floggings.  
Bree was going to sneak into the captain's cabin. Once inside, she would look for a log or a chart, anything to give her a clue as to where they were headed, or where they were. Then, using the data gleaned from that, she would formulate a plan to escape, be it by jumping ship and swimming to land, or remembering the common trade ship routes.  
Rain was pounding the decks, slipping off the sails and drenching the rigging. Lightening crashed, thunder booming down at the Dutchman. Waves splashed over the sides as Bree made her way towards the cabin. She was supposed to be checking the depth, but she had snuck away. Everyone was busy with their own roles, and Bree easily made it to the great door. She hid nearby, waiting. She was sopping wet, and knew that she would leave wet spots on the floor, but the entire ship was damp, including Jones' cabin. She could get away with it easily.  
The door opened, and the dim light was just enough to cast Jones' shadow across Bree as she lay hidden. She only got a glimpse of his face. His eyes seemed dimmer than usual. He walked with more of a limp, as well.  
Bree watched as the captain left his cabin. Her heart beating hard in her ears, Bree stole out from her hiding place, entering the room. She had been there before, and she was determined to do what she had planned.  
As Bree approached the large organ in the far end of the room, she began rifling through some papers scattered about the floor. Nothing. Surely Jones kept a log or a chart or something! She looked up, then stopped. As small tinkling sound had started. Bree recognized the sound. It was a music box. She stood, going over to the organ, careful not to touch any of the keys. She saw a small, heart shaped music box. It was playing softly. Ah, yes, that was what Bree had seen! But she was puzzled. Why would Jones have a music box? And where had she heard that tune before?  
Picking up the small device, Bree examined it. It had been half obscured by a container of writing pens. She looked at the box, laughing inwardly. Did Jones have a soft spot for this kind of music? This seemed like the thing a lady would have!  
Suddenly, Bree heard the captain's unmistakable clunking footsteps. Frantic, Bree scooted the container of pens back to the way they had been, hiding any evidence of her going through them. Unable to waste time putting the music box back, she clenched her hand around it and looked around. Only one thing to do. Hide behind the tall organ pipes.  
Wedging herself in between the tallest sets of pipes she could find, Bree watched as Jones entered his cabin. She felt her heart beating so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. She clenched the music box tight as the captain neared his organ. He didn't seem to notice anything amiss. Bree didn't dare breath. Jones sat down, his shoulders slumped. His tentacles hung limply. Bree thought he looked sad, but why?  
Jones bent over his organ, and suddenly, his tentacles began flying over the keys. Music boomed up from the pipes, and Bree almost screamed as the pipes she hid behind began booming out as well. Her ears were ringing, but she soon forgot that. The song Jones was playing was what the music box had been playing!  
Of course! Why hadn't Bree recognized it? It was the song he was always playing! The fact that she had never heard the music box version had confused her so she didn't recognize it. And she hadn't been expecting it. This made Bree wonder. Why play the tune of a music box? She could see part of Jones' face. She could only make out his eyes, and the look in them made Bree feel something well up inside her. He looked so…sad. No! She didn't pity him! She hated him!  
And then Bree looked down at the music box again. Jones must love it dearly to play its tune. Bree looked back up at the captain. Her eyes hardened. Then she would take it! Let him know what it was like to lose something dear!  
Bree was lucky. Jones was too preoccupied to notice her slip out from behind the pipes and run out of the room.  
Bree slid out through the doors, rain pelting down on her. She looked up, making sure no one saw her. No one was taking any real notice of her anyway, so she snuck to the front of the ship, standing over the figurehead. She climbed down onto the bow, hanging on to the figurehead and edging out along the bowsprits. She balanced there, the wind threatening to buffet her about, her hair flying and slapping her face.  
Bree had stowed the box in her shirt. She reached in and drew it out, looking at it. Jones may control the sea, but he wouldn't be able to find the music box at the bottom of it!  
Bree edged out farther until she had no more room to hold on to anything. She clenched a fist around the small box and held it out over the raging waters. She stood there like that for a long time. Her emotions were battling within her. She hated Jones, and wanted to make him angry. But the way he had looked when he came in…made her sad. She drew her hand back, looking down at the small music box. She shielded it from the slanting rain, keeping the gears from jarring. Why not keep it?  
Bree slowly tucked the box away in her shirt again, where no one would guess to look. She then climbed back onto the deck and went back to work, pretending she had never left. All the while she listened to the booming sound of Jones' organs, but the tune he played had a new meaning.

Bree didn't sleep well that night. The music box was hidden in the folds of her jerkin in a pouch that hid it from sight. Just feeling it pressed against her body was a sort of comfort. She was glad she hadn't thrown it into the sea.  
Bree was almost asleep when she heard a slight disturbance. She uncovered her head and raised it slightly. Then the same clunking sound that heralded the captain's approach began. Bree was confused. It sounded like he was…headed for the hold.  
Bree pulled the ragged blanket up to her chin, leaving her eyes open a slit to see what would happen.  
Davy Jones indeed came into the hold. He clunked down the steps, and suddenly made a beeline for Bree's hammock. Bree concentrated on breathing normally, but her heart was pounding so loud she was sure her captain could hear it.  
Jones surprised her though. He simply stood over her, looking at her. Bree could make out his eyes, but not the emotions in them. She stifled a growl. He was probably assessing her physical health to contrive more tortures for her.  
Jones suddenly moved away, and headed for the bosun. Bree lifted her head just a little to see him take hold of something and rip it away. Her medallion!  
Jones looked at the medallion, and then tucked it into his shirt. He then turned, looking towards Bree again, but the girl put her head down. Then Jones left, back to his cabin.  
Bree was bewildered. What had just happened? She didn't sleep at all that night.

Davy Jones stood at the railing, his claw clutching the chain of Bree's medallion. He looked at it, not understanding his own feelings.  
Bree.  
She had a pretty name. But it was wild, like her. She…she was a perfect pirate, fit the sea like Calypso herself.  
Jones grimaced, still looking at the medallion. No. No, it was just…just the fact that she was a girl. She was just a reminder! That was all. Just bad memories. He put the medallion back into his shirt, near the place his heart should have been.  
Davy Jones turned towards his cabin, making his was inside. He sat down, realizing how tired he was. He closed his eyes. Bree was there before him.  
The pale blue eyes of the captain snapped open. What's wrong with me? he thought in frustration. He admired her. That was all. He was exhausted. Too tired to think properly.  
The moon was hidden from view as the Dutchman sailed on. Two pairs of eyes never truly closed that night.

Bree rose earlier than morning, owing to the fact that she hadn't even slept. She pulled on her jerkin, which had been returned to her, and went up on deck. She looked out over the water, a thick layer of fog covering it. She leaned on the railing, sniffing the moisture.   
Bree's neck hairs began to prickle. She turned slowly. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she found that her captain was standing only two feet away from her.  
"Pretty, isn't it?" Jones said in a flat tone.  
Bree opened her mouth, but then shut it, turning around again, signaling that she had no wish to talk to him. But Jones simply went to the railing, leaning on it beside her. He looked out over the water, and Bree glanced at him, noticing that his eyes were slightly troubled. When he looked at her, she looked down quickly, unnerved.  
Bree turned her head to the side as Jones spoke again, "Where are ye from, Bree?"  
Bree thought it odd that he was asking her. She knew he didn't like her. But he was always so…curious about her. Probably hasn't seen a girl in…who knows!  
When Bree didn't say anything, Jones put his claw to the back of her neck and turned her around, but Bree was surprised when it wasn't as harsh as he normally was. His grip was gentler.   
"Where are ye from?"  
Bree swallowed, answering, "I…I don't really know…I wasn't born where I lived when I was a young girl. My home has always been the sea."  
Bree saw something struggling in Jones' face. Was it admiration? Recognition? Remembrance? She couldn't tell. But something tugged at her heart. He looked…desperate. Was it because he wanted her to talk? Just to talk? Did he want to hear something from her? Something to…to remind him of something else that he forgot?  
Bree felt compelled to speak, "I think I was born on a pirate ship. Me mother was a wench, an' I think the cap'n o' the ship took her along with him, either for the crew or for hisself. That cap'n was my father. The ship Bloodsail."  
Jones suddenly showed recognition. Bree continued, "After I was born, my mother was taken back to Tortuga, I think, an' that's where I was first raised. But then my mother died an' I stowed away on a merchant vessel. After that they found me an' took me to a smaller town where I was adopted. They tried to train me to be a lady. Ha!" Bree laughed harshly. She looked at Jones. A slight smile played about his lips, as if he found it to be amusing. Bree actually stifled a smile, but she continued.  
"I ran away and joined the crew o' the Goresail. So my life has been the sea from th' beginnin'."  
Jones looked slightly impressed. He spoke his thoughts, "Good for a young lass like yerself, Bree. At least ye can work an' fight well."  
Bree grinned, a little confused. She found herself enjoying this conversation. She looked up at Jones, saying, "So…don't I get yer life story?"  
Jones gaze snapped to her, and Bree flinched, realizing she must have done something wrong. He growled, "Don't ever ask that!"  
Bree was somewhat hurt by this, but she growled back, "My apologies, sir, but I was only-"  
Jones didn't listen. He turned around, snarling over his shoulder to her, "Git down below if ye've nothin' to do!"  
Bree, angry and hurt, stamped her foot down, "Fine!"  
She marched back down the hold angrily, her feet nearly punching holes in the deck.  
Jones turned to watch her, and felt a slight pang of remorse. Was it really her fault that she had brought up those memories?  
Why didn't my crew just kill her with the rest of the crew of the Goresail? Jones thought angrily. Since she came aboard, his feelings had been unstable and confused him. He growled, going to the bow and looking out over the waves.  
Women. They truly did vex all men.

Bootstrap pulled Bree out of her hammock, knowing he couldn't coax her out, "C'mon, Cap'n will be angry if ye don't get up!"  
Bree mumbled as she stood, picking the limpets from her cheek, "He's always angry at me!"  
Jimmylegs had risen to give Bree her daily whipping. He grinned, his hand going to his neck to finger the medallion as he always did. His eyes suddenly went blank. Then they clouded with anger. He stormed over to Bree, bringing the flail down hard. Bree fell flat, then she flipped over, only to have the whip strike her hard across the face. She growled, indignant, "What was that for? I'm up!"  
Jimmylegs hauled Bree up by the hair, growling at her, "Where'd ye put it?"  
Bree was confused but not frightened. She bit Jimmylegs' hand and started running for the deck. Halfway up the stairs, Jimmylegs grabbed her ankle, causing her to fall. She kicked him hard and crawled up awkwardly, only to have the bosun pounce on her. He straddled her back, grabbing her neck as she tried to get away.  
Bree was wriggling like an eel, baring her teeth and snarling. She had her head slammed down on the deck and two claws pressed to her eyes. Suddenly, she went still as Jimmylegs stopped clawing at her. She wrenched her face away, looking up.  
Jones pushed Jimmylegs away roughly, then hauled Bree up. He folded his arms across his chest, looking at her expectantly.  
Bree growled, looking at Jimmylegs, "'E just attacked me for no reason!"  
Jimmylegs snarled, "She's a thief! She stole me medallion!"  
Bree gave a vicious growl, lunging at him, but Jones grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back. Bree fought, calling out, "Liar! It's my medallion! An' I don't have it!"  
Jones held Bree back easily, pinning her arms down. He barked out harshly, "Silence!" Everything went still. The crew had all gathered on deck to see what would happen.  
Jones let go of Bree and she ducked around him, placing him between herself and Jimmylegs. She looked at Jones, almost pleadingly. He took it! Wouldn't he do anything?  
Jones walked to Jimmylegs, and pulled out the medallion, "This is mine, now."  
Jimmylegs made a slight sound of protest, but he didn't dare defy his captain. Jones turned to the girl, holding the medallion up, "If ye ever try to steal this, it's the gratin's for ye."  
Bree bared her teeth but didn't say anything. She whirled around, stalking off to the bow. Jones followed her with his eyes, watching as she slipped over to the bowsprits. A slight smile threatened to show. She had true spirit. He tucked the medallion away, and then turned back to his crew, barking out the usual orders.

Bree didn't like sea urchins. Funny how her hammock happened to be absolutely full of them. Bree groaned, steeling herself and scooping bunches of them up in her bare hands. She listened to the music rolling through the ship in waves, too angry and frustrated to appreciate it now. She muttered curses under her breath, sucking on her fingers every few seconds and then scooping out more of the spiny creatures.  
Bree might not have been paying attention to the music, but she noticed when it stopped. And it stopped quite suddenly. Bree looked up, the silence eerie and sinister.  
Bree heard the slam of a door. Clunking footsteps. Jones.  
Jones came down the steps faster than Bree thought possible. He headed straight for her, his face a mask of hatred. Bree, confused and frightened, tried to dodge around him, but he grabbed her by the throat, and pulled her to the steps, actually hurling her up to the deck and following after.  
Bree landed hard, dazed and confused. She struggled up, looking at Jones, her eyes full of fear.  
Jones stood before her, quivering with rage. The scene might remind one of a coiled adder, ready to strike at a newborn hatchling. Jones walked forward and kicked Bree hard, hissing down at her viciously, "Where is it?"  
Bree didn't understand, trying to defend herself. She cried out between kicks, "What?"  
Jones grabbed her by the hair, hurling her to the side, "You know what it is! Ye thief! Ye stole it! Where is it?"  
Bree now understood. The music box! Jones had discovered that it was missing! Bree still played dumb, "I don't know what ye're talkin' 'bout!"  
Jones went wild at this, actually drawing his sword. He stood over Bree, raising the blade.  
Bree cowered, covering her head with her arms. Then, the blow fell. She groaned in agony as the flat of the blade slammed into her back, leaving horrible red wheals on her back. Over and over again, the blows rained down on her. She touched the pouch hidden in the folds of her jerkin. No! She wouldn't reveal it!  
The blows continued to rain down, but at last they stopped. Bree was covered in blood, tears soaking her cheeks. She looked up, seeing Jones stumble over to the side, his head down. Pity surged through Bree. His eyes were filled with pain.  
Levering herself up, Bree backed away, still watching Jones. Part of her enjoyed watching this, but another part wished she would give back the box. But no!  
Bree looked up to see Bootstrap. He put his arm around her shoulders to support her as she limped down to the hold with him. He helped her into her hammock and gave her an old, seawater soaked cloak to press to her back.  
Bree voiced her thoughts, "What was Jones talkin' about up there?"  
Bootstrap shrugged, saying, "Not sure, mate. I think he's lost 'is treasure."  
Bree thingyed her head, "What d'ye mean?"  
Bootstrap explained, "He only has a few treasured possessions in 'is cabin. One is an old music box that belonged to a girl. It means more to 'im than anythin' in the world."  
Bree stayed her hand from going to the pouch. She played dumb, "Why's that?"  
Bootstrap answered, "He was in love with the girl."  
Bree's eyes went wide. Jones? In love with someone? Was it possible that her grim captain could love anyone?  
Bootstrap left Bree to rest. The girl reached into her jerkin and pulled out the small music box, stroking its sides tenderly. Did it really mean that much to Jones? Bree's eyes went soft, and then hardened. Good. It caused her cruel captain pain. That was what she wanted!

Bree stood near the prow, sniffing the clear air that always came after a good rain and gently rubbing her shoulders. Some of Jones' blows had landed there, and she was sore. Her fins were cut and crusted with dried blood.  
Bree looked up as Ratlin walked past her. Just for fun, Ratlin took one of the many ropes he always had with him, knotted it and swung it at Bree's back. Bree arched her back in pain, but didn't cry out. She simply whirled round, caught the end of the rope as it came down for another swing, and swung it back at Ratlin, who took it full in the face. Bree dodged to the side as Ratlin rubbed his cheek ruefully. He growled at her, but glancing to the side, saw Jones approaching. He walked past, muttering curses.  
Bree didn't notice Jones as she turned back to look out over the dark ocean. She only noticed him when he spoke, "How's yer back?" Bree felt him run his claw down the upper part of her back, and she winced, partly from pain and partly from disgust. Jones withdrew his claw, seeming a bit disgusted himself.  
Bree swallowed, and then answered her captain, "It's fine. Doesn't hurt a bit."  
Jones could see she was lying. She was moving stiffly, hinting at her pain. But he bit back the words he wanted to say, instead saying, "Good. I won't let ye stay in th' hold tomorrow. Ye're workin' just like the others."  
Bree swung round to face him, but he had been closer than she had thought, and her arm brushed his. She bit something back, startled and confused. But she spoke in a strained voice, "I…I didn't expect any kindness from ye."  
Jones chuckled, actually reaching out and tipping Bree's chin with his claw, "Ye're a brave lass, Bree. Tough, too. Never met a girl as wild as ye."  
Bree tried to swallow, her skin prickling as she answered, "An' how many girls have ye met out here?"  
Jones removed his claw, answering, "I wasn't always like this, ye know."  
Bree knew this, but she still could never picture her cruel captain as anything but the half-man half-sea creature that he was now. She crossed her arms across her chest, saying, "Don't think I'll ever think of ye any differently."  
Bree looked to see how Jones would react to this. She was surprised to see a hurt expression in his face, but it was veiled by stoic indifference. She shrugged, spitting out, "Why so friendly all of a sudden? Just a few hours ago ye were tryin' to rip the hide from me back!"  
Jones laughed softly, admitting at last, "Ye're one to be admired, Bree. A true rebel. But rebels never succeed here."  
"Will Turner did!" Bree found herself blurting out.  
Jones' eyes darkened, "He's dead."  
Bree growled, "But the Kraken killed 'im! He still escaped! An' Sparrow? I don't see his soul anywhere!"  
Jones faced Bree, stepping forward. Bree stepped back, but Jones snarled at her, "Sparrow is dead! The Kraken brought him an' his beloved Pearl back down to the depths she came from!"  
Bree was silent for a moment, then sniffed, saying, "Still. He ain't in this livin' hell."  
Jones stifled another smile. He wanted to know more about Bree! He had never before been this curious, but he asked her, "Surely ye had another name on the Goresail." A name that shows how wild ye are!  
Bree averted her gaze, nodding, "Bad Luck Bree." Then she looked up at Jones again, her eyes on fire, "O' course I can see it fits! I ain't had anythin' but bad luck ever since the Goresail left Tortuga five months ago!"  
Jones looked out over the rippling waves and said, "Don't think ye haven't brought any along wi' ye."  
Bree instantly understood what he meant. And she was shocked.  
Jones believed her! He thought she really didn't have the music box! He must have thought it had been lost overboard! Of course, the fact that she had taken a beating from the flat of a broadsword rather than give up the music box must have convinced him. Bree suddenly felt an ache in her heart, pity and compassion surging up. She had to force them back down, her stomach twisting into a knot.  
Bree dared to reach out and put her hand on Jones' shoulder. Jones' head jerked around to look at her, and Bree felt her mouth go dry with fear. But she spoke, "I didn't…want to bring bad luck to ye…" Her mouth snapped shut. What was she saying? It's the blood-loss, she told herself.  
Jones looked at her for a moment, and then brushed her hand aside. He snarled slightly, saying harshly, "Get back below! I'll expect to see ye workin' tomorrow!"  
Bree, for once, didn't snarl back at her captain. She simply turned, walking back.  
Jones clenched his claw. What was happening? His shoulder, where Bree had laid her hand, felt like it was burning. He was angry at her, that was it. She must have stolen his music box! But…she would have revealed it. She was such an honest, bright…no! She was a rotten little bilge rat! A sorry excuse for a female creature!  
Jones growled, standing up straight. Tomorrow, he would get these feelings sorted out. He would assure Bree, and himself, that he truly hated her.

Bree rose early again that morning. She snuck up to the deck, making her way to the bow and climbing down to her hiding place. Sitting safely astride the bowsprits, Bree pulled out the music box. She was tempted to wind it up and play it, but sound carries across water, and if Jones heard it…she dare not think about it.  
Bree looked at the music box for a long time, thinking. Could she possibly trade the music box for her medallion? No, Jones wouldn't let her get away with stealing it. She'd best keep it hidden. Tucking it back into the pouch, Bree leaned back, resting her mind and body.  
Used to sleeping with one eye open, Bree glanced to the side. She saw a small rock formation near the starboard side, probably a sort of reef-like structure. It was tall enough to be considered a cliff. She was merely glancing at it when she saw the prow of a ship emerge from one side. Bree's eyes both fully opened. She watched as the ship slid back behind the rocks.  
A wild idea formed in Bree's mind. She was undead, and could therefore swim without fear of drowning. The ship wasn't that far away. If she could speak with the captain, she could persuade them to hide behind the rocks until the Dutchman moved off.  
Bree stood, peeking over onto the deck. No one but the watch near the stern. Bree grinned wildly. This was it!  
Bree edged out further onto the bowsprits, and then, her heart beating wildly in her ears, she did a spectacular swan dive into the clear Caribbean waters. She was a good swimmer and diver and she hit the water with barely a splash or ripple. She struck out strongly, knowing that she was visible but also knew that she could stay beneath the surface for as long as she wished, now that she didn't have to take a breath.  
As the sun fully rose, Bree had reached the rocks. She climbed as high as she could go and turned, looking for the ship. There it was. Her eyes grew wide and she nearly fell from the rock.


	6. Black Sails

Chapter VI  
Black Sails

Captain Jack Sparrow was up and about early, his daily rum bottle (at least, the morning round) in his hand. He took a swig, swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing. He grinned, his handsome face lighting up as he softly sang, "Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!" Then he took another drink.

Suddenly, something crashed into a bundle of rigging near the prow. Jack turned, grabbing his rum in both hands, ready to protect it. He saw something dart down behind a rail, leaving a trail of wet footprints. Jack checked to make sure his sword and pistol were in place. He then walked forward, setting the rum down and tiptoeing over to the rail. He peeked over, and something slapped him hard in the face. Of course, Jack was used to being slapped, so he quickly recovered, looking up.  
Bree scrambled up into the rigging, climbing like a squirrel. She knew this ship. The Black Pearl! And she knew now that this was Jack. She was confused but knew that she had to convince Jack to let her sail on his ship.  
Bree got a safe distance away and turned around. Jack was shouting something and had his pistol out. Bree held her hand out, calling, "No! I'm sorry I hit ye, just listen to me for a bit!"  
Jack didn't hear her and fired, furious that someone would try to stow away on his ship. The bullet hit Bree in the shoulder, but she didn't even flinch. But now she was angry.  
Leaping from the rigging, Bree turned a magnificent somersault and landed lightly on the deck. Jack looked pale. Bree bared her teeth, and of course it surprised Jack that she had fangs.  
This girl wasn't normal, that was for sure. Jack dropped his pistol, saying in a somewhat unsteady tone, "That didn't…work."  
Bree stuck her claw into the wound in her shoulder and managed to pull the shot out. She tossed it to Jack, "Try again."  
Jack backed away as the grisly object rolled towards him, "No thanks, mate, I'm all right. Erm…" He looked at Bree's broadsword, "So…"  
Bree was disgusted. Was this really Jack Sparrow? He looked the part but he seemed a bit bumbling! She cut him off, "Now will ye let me talk?"  
Jack shut his mouth and gestured for her to continued, pressing his hands together.

Bree nodded and spoke, "Me name's Bree, an' I…" She stopped. Why would anyone in their right mind take on a crewmember of the Flying Dutchman? Bree was an honest person, so she only twisted the truth somewhat, "Er…My captain was cruel, so I jumped ship. I was wonderin' if ye could help me. Stay behind these rocks until noon, and then move out."  
Jack was running his tongue over his teeth, grimacing each time he saw the girl's fangs. He also noticed a long scar running down the side of her face. Compassion filled him. She must have had a hard time. But he still knew something wasn't right. She didn't look…human.  
Bree began scraping barnacles from her sleeves, snarling up at Jack, "Well? Ye gonna help me?"  
Jack cleared his throat, saying, "Erm, Miss Bree, due to circumstances beyond my control, I'm afraid I'm in no place to offer ye any assistance in getting to shore. I can, however," he added hastily after seeing her hand going towards her broadsword, "offer ye a place in the crew of the Black Pearl."  
Bree grinned, saying, "That's what I was hopin' ye'd say, mate, er…Cap'n." Then she held out her hand, saying, "I suppose ye're Jack Sparrow?"  
Jack smiled, shaking her hand, "Aye, mate. I'll have ye tell me yer tale later. But now I think it'd be best if the crew met their new mate."

Bree was very popular among the crew of the _Pearl_. Her quick wit, fun personality and good sense of humor won everybody's heart. She was quickly accepted as a full crew member.

Bree changed her plans. She guessed that the _Dutchman _would sail towards the rocks. Jones would suspect she had gone there. So why not watch for her and sail around the rock, right in front of her, but still hidden? Like a ring-around!

Jack took Bree's advice and slowly maneuvered around the rocks as Bree watched the approach of the other ship. The sun climbed higher and higher, and Bree never left the rigging. She was looking towards the _Dutchman_, giving a sigh of relief when the phantom ship began moving in the opposite direction. Soon she would be out of sight!

And she was! Bree watched as the _Dutchman _disappeared over the horizon. Sliding down one of the ropes, Bree called out, "Time to weigh anchor, mates!"

Jack immediately took his position as captain and began to give out orders. He watched Bree as they all worked. She was a hard worker. He had seen Elizabeth Swann, Will's fiancée, and had thought she was a tough girl. But Bree worked harder than the men! She was a true pirate, tougher than nails.

Bree smiled as the _Pearl_'s black sails filled in the wind. They began to sail forward from the rocks, out into the open sea. She looked to Jack, and then, pausing from her work, walked up to him. She clasped his hand in hers, saying gratefully, "Thanks, Cap'n. I owe ye a lot. Where are we headed?"

Jack made a strange gesture with his hand, and then said, "Probably to Tortuga."

Bree's smile faded. But she shrugged and said, "Aye, Cap'n. But where from there?"

Jack again made his odd hand movement, "We'll stay to the coast. We won't go too far out to sea. I don't like the open ocean."

Bree closed her mouth, thinking it impolite to let it hang open like that. Was Jack Sparrow, the infamous captain of the _Black Pearl_, afraid of the sea? But she didn't speak her thoughts. She simply pressed knuckle to forehead in a salute and moved back to her station.

The _Flying Dutchman_ wasn't simply sailing off. It was in pursuit. In pursuit of Bree.

Jones hadn't been expecting anything like this. The bosun had come to him earlier than usual that morning, skulking around like a frightened rat. When asked about his errand, Jimmylegs simply said, "The girl's missin', Cap'n."

Jones had immediately stormed down to the hold, tearing down Bree's hammock. Empty. The crew searched the entire ship for her, and even looked on the bowsprits for her. No sign of her. Jones foamed and swore, his pale blue eyes fiery with rage. Bree had escaped!

Jones indeed swore vengeance and assured himself that he now hated Bree more than anything. But he was terrified. Part of him was hurt. Terribly hurt. Bree was gone.

Jones turned to see the rocks, his eyes narrowing. He began barking out orders, "Hard to port! Head for the rocks! That's where she went!"

The _Flying Dutchman_ headed out towards the large sea-cliff, with Jones standing at the rail, his keen eyes scanning it for the young girl. No sign of her, all the way around. Fury made the captain almost dizzy, and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear them. He growled, cursing Bree with all sorts of terrible oaths.

The _Dutchman_ headed out to open sea, now. Jones now guessed that Bree had escaped on a passing ship. He would find her. And she would pay dearly for hurting his reputation…and for simply hurting him.

The _Pearl _was sailing along as smooth as glass, and Bree was catching a short rest. Freedom! Ah, sweet freedom! Bree breathed in the fresh air, a soft smile on her face. Little did she know, but Jack was standing close by, assessing her. She was a pretty girl. But something in her eyes made him think of her differently. He could tell right away that she was a fighter, a true terror of the seas.

Jack, with his ever-present bottle of rum, turned to look out over the sea. He was nervous about being out in the open ocean. Ever since the Kraken had dragged him and the _Pearl_ down to the depths, Jones thought Jack was dead. Therefore, the Kraken no longer sought Jack out. How Jack escaped from the depths with the _Pearl _is a different story, but he had the help of his friends. Jack was safe from the Kraken…for now.

Jack looked at the chains wrapped around Bree. Strange…they didn't look normal. And her mouth…the fangs unnerved him. But surely she wasn't…

Bree opened her eyes, sighing contentedly. Her gaze was fixed on Jack's bottle, "Is that rum, Cap'n?"

Jack smiled, and offered the bottle to her. Bree took it without a word and took a huge gulp, smacking her lips and grinning. Jack laughed, admiring a girl who could stomach rum. Bree finished off the bottle and tossed it back to Jack, saying, "Left ye a drop, Jack."

Bree rose, stretching and preparing to go into the rigging to watch for signs of other ships. She looked back at Jack, who was still watching her. She was curious about him. Soon, she would ask him to tell her his story. Jones had said he was dead! And the _Pearl _was rotting at the bottom of the ocean. Bree smiled. Well, all the stories she had heard of Jack must be true. If he could escape from Jones' clutches, he could do anything.

Three days. A full three days. Bree had never known such bliss. Three days of freedom! She woke earlier than the others by habit, pleased to not have to wake by the whip.

Bree had been asked several times by more than one crewmember why she had two lengths of chain wrapped around her. She quickly said that they were old keepsakes, knowing this sounded foolish, but it had to do. Her fangs, she said, were simply real fangs from an animal. She had lost her two teeth in battle and replaced them with fangs to be more intimidating. At least it threw them off the scent for a while.

Bree stood at the prow. Jack was beside her, not speaking but surveying the ship. Bree turned to him and spoke, "Cap'n, how did ye escape the Kraken?"

Jack's face fell, "Er…I'd rather not say."

Bree made a little sound of disappointed obedience. She wouldn't press it. She was keeping secrets. Why shouldn't he?

Bree looked up, and then tapped Jack on the shoulder, "Look! A sail!"

Jack pulled out his glass, peering into it. But the sail was too far away to make out clearly. Bree climbed up into the rigging, waiting as the ship drew closer. It was a large three-masted ship. A strange color…didn't look normal. Then her eyes caught sight of two long fang-like bowsprits, made to look like jaws. Her heart stopped.

The _Dutchman_!

Bree began calling out urgently, "Jack! Time to move!"

Jack, still unable to make out the ghost ship, looked up as Bree slid down. Her eyes were huge and she spoke in an urgent whisper, "It's the _Dutchman_!"

Jack's blood ran cold when he heard this. He grabbed Bree's shoulders, serious for once in his life, "Are ye sure, luv?"

Bree nodded, looking back towards the ship. Suddenly, her eyes went so huge that Jack thought they would pop out of her head. She collapsed, but Jack supported her, and she turned to him, unspeakable terror in her eyes. She whispered faintly, "Please…we have to go! I'll explain everything later!"

When Bree said this, Jack realized that she knew why the _Dutchman_ was chasing them. He grabbed her arm, looking at her, "I suppose this is yer fault?"

Bree, unable to lie, nodded, shame filling her. Jack's eyes darkened and he stepped back, crossing his arms, "So, what d'ye suggest we do?"

Bree flared up, "Even if ye didn't want to help me, ye'd want to get away from the _Dutchman_!" She turned again, and then said, "I say we sail towards her. Then, soon after, we maneuver around her and sail in the opposite direction! We'd be with the wind then! An' we can beat 'er!"

Jack didn't like her giving orders, even though he would have done the same thing, "An' what makes ye think that would work? Ye know nothin' of the _Dutchman_."

Bree snarled, "I know more than ye! I crewed it!"

Jack was taken aback, "Ye…crewed it?"

Bree ripped her sleeve, showing him the brand, "Jones gave me this." She removed her jerkin, revealing her fins poking through the shirt underneath, "Now d'ye know where me fangs came from?"

Jack swallowed, a little uncomfortable. He was faced with a dilemma. He could easily toss Bree overboard to be picked up by the _Dutchman_. But he had grown to like Bree. Why not help her? If they followed her plan, they had a chance…with a lot of luck.

Of course, Bree had wisely kept her pirate name a secret.

The _Pearl_ had done it! With the wind at her back, she was able to outdistance the _Dutchman_. And yet Bree had another plan.

"Why not pull her into a river?"

The entire crew stared at Bree as if she was mad. Bree continued to press, "C'mon, we'll get her in on th' tide!"

Jack sighed, "Aye, she's right. It's the best way to hide."

Bree grinned, grateful to Jack. He motioned to her, "Come into my quarters."

Bree sat across from Jack, and he began asking her questions, "How did ye come to be aboard the _Dutchman_?"

Bree began, fingering the hilt of her sword absently, "I was a pirate aboard the ship _Goresail_. One day, we ran afoul of some rocks and were tryin' to break loose. A ship suddenly rose above the waves beside us. I'd heard stories o' the _Flying Dutchman_. I recognized the ship, and knew we were doomed. She rammed us fully onto the rocks, an' there we were boarded. All me crewmates were killed, an' the captain…" Bree shuddered, but continued, "I fought hard, an' they took me aboard the _Dutchman_. Jones had me locked in th' brig. He then forced me to join the crew. Why, I don't know. I thought that they would kill me. I crewed that ship for almost half a year. I started to become one of 'em, as ye can tell by these." Bree pointed out her fins once more. Jack winced, the sight making his own back hurt.

Bree sighed, flattening her fins and leaning back, saying, "I don't know if I'm actually free yet. The _Dutchman _is followin' us because o' me. I should leave the ship an' make for land."

"What about those chains, mate?"

Bree looked at the chains around her chest and neck, "They don't come off. They're…"

Jack reached forward and gave the one around her neck a gentle tug. It loosened, and he slipped it easily over her head. Bree's eyes went wide. She quickly removed the one around her chest, letting it drop to the floor, happiness shining from her face, along with relief.

"I don't think Jones has a hold on ye, anymore."

Bree grinned, wicked joy on her features.

Jack looked at Bree, asking, "How much did ye know of Jones before ye were captured?"

"Enough," Bree answered, "I knew the legend that 'is heart was buried on some island. But…I didn't know why."

Jack got straight to the point, "Jones recovered 'is heart, I think. Did ye ever see it? Ye said ye were in his cabin once or twice."

Bree went still, thought for a moment, and then said, "Depends on which heart ye're talkin' bout."

The girl reached into her jerkin and pulled out a pouch. She pulled the music box out. Holding it in the palm of her hand, Bree let all see it.

Jack didn't understand. He looked at Bree, and she explained, "This belongs to Jones."

Jack held his hand out, "Let me see it."

Bree pulled her hand back, "No!"

Jack looked puzzled. But Bree did too. Obviously she didn't understand the possessiveness she felt for the box.

Bree slowly set the box down, but had a hard time taking her hand from it. Jack slowly reached towards it, and Bree let him, but she looked strained. Jack flipped open the top, and went as if to wind it up.

Bree gasped, staying Jack's hand. She said in a half whisper half groan, "No! He'll hear it!"

Jack was bewildered, "He's leagues away, Bree. On another ship! He wouldn't hear it!"

Bree glared at him so fiercely that he knew she wouldn't believe otherwise. He sighed, taking his hand away. He then asked, "Why would he hear it?"

"He's…connected to it," answered Bree. She looked at the box again. "He's always alert. Just like he was when I saw the ship from the sails." She shuddered. "I saw his eyes staring right into mine!"

Jack couldn't understand, "Ye were too far away to make out any individuals! Is yer eyesight that good?"

Bree looked at him, her eyes wide with terror, "No, but his is!"

Jack saw how troubled the girl was. He spoke again, "Why does Jones keep a music box?"

Bree shrugged, "Bootstrap told me it belonged to a girl. A girl Jones fell in love with." Bree shuddered, "The song it plays…Jones plays it all the time on his organ. It's…it's a terrible thing! Makes a body want to cry!"

Bree grabbed Jack's arm, looking at him, her eyes alarmed, "I'm frightened, Jack! I feel…sorry for 'im! I don't want to feel sorry for 'im! But someone who would cut out 'is own heart an' still love someone…"

Jack patted her back, "It's all right, mate. Ye just…"

"Land ho! There's th' river!"

They didn't make it by high tide, so they did the only thing. They had to haul the _Pearl_ into the river.

Jack began giving out orders, "Split into two groups either side o' the river. Mr. Gibbs, get the anchor rope to port an' another one as thick to starboard. Right. All ashore!"

Bree pulled as hard as the others. Ropes creaked and went taut as the _Pearl _began moving painfully slow. It took hours before she was fully under cover of the trees. Bree threw down her rope and went to the deeper area of the stream, scooping water into her mouth and cooling her head and neck.

Jack waded through to Bree, slapping her on the back and laughing, "We did it, mate! The _Pearl_'s safe!"

Bree grinned, water dripping from her face. Then she said, "I suppose we'll head somewhere on land, then, aye?"

Jack nodded, relieved to be on land, where he was safe from both Jones and the Kraken.

Bree looked eastward, "Where are we?"

"Somewhere near Tortuga, luckily enough for us," Jack answered, surveying his surroundings.

"Tortuga? Well then, let's go there!"

Tortuga was a long trek, but the crew of the _Black Pearl_ reached it soon after nightfall. Bree was tired, her eyelids drooping. They wouldn't find much rest here, though. Tortuga was just as Bree remembered it. Rowdy, loud, violent…and fun.

Bree wasn't at all surprised to see Jack and the others heading for the tavern, the Faithful Bride. Bree was right behind them. Jack, being the kind cap'n he was, bought Bree a drink.

The crew all sat in the corner, the only quiet area in the tavern. Bree leaned back in her chair, taking a long gulp of her ale. She listened as the others told vulgar jokes, looking forward to their evening of fun. Bree had to remind them that she was present.

Bree was enjoying watching a typical bar brawl when Jack tapped her on the shoulder, "Mate, ye need to come with me."

Bree nodded, rising. Jack led her to a back room, shutting the door. Bree looked up. A young man was sitting at a table. Bree looked to Jack, and he motioned toward the young man.

"You look…familiar."

The young man stepped forward, saying politely, "My name is Will Turner."

Bree's eyes went wide, "Will _Turner!_ You're Bootstrap's son!"

Will's eyes went as wide as hers as he nodded, "Aye. You know him?"

Bree nodded vigorously, spilling out her tale, "He was my only friend on the _Dutchman_! The only friend I had in the world. Oh…oh, I wish he was here! He thought ye were dead!"

Will took her by the arm, interrupting her, "But he's alright? Jones hasn't done anything to him?"

Bree nodded, "Aye, he's fine…well, as fine as ye can be aboard that ship. But he's already aboard the devil's ship, mate. Not much more Jones can do to 'im, anyway. But Bootstrap talked about ye! He told me that you crewed the _Dutchman _too! And ye stole Jones' key!" Bree had a look of admiration now, "Any relative o' Bootstrap is a friend o' mine! I owe 'im a lot."

Jack butted in, "Did, uh…did Jones ever mention me at all?"

Bree nodded again, "Aye. But he thinks ye're dead. I suppose that's what ye want to hear. He told me hisself that the _Pearl _had been dragged to the depths by 'is beast, the Kraken. An' so I was surprised when I saw a ship with black sails out 'ere. An' even more surprised to see Jack Sparrow aboard!" She grinned, clasping Jack's hand in hers.

"Jones singled ye out a lot, did he?" Jack asked. Bree shrugged, saying, "I suppose he does that with every new crew member. The fact that I was a rebel didn't help much, or the fact that I was the only girl ever to crew, or even set foot on the _Flying Dutchman_."

"A rebel? You didn't cooperate?" asked Will, obviously impressed that a girl could have so much fire. _I don't think even Elizabeth would've been able to stand up to Jones._

Bree nodded, motioning to the fins on her back, "These didn't grow because I was submittin', mate. An' there's no skin on me back, either. That should give ye a good idea how much I disobeyed."

"How long were you with them?" asked Will.

"About four months, mate," answered Bree. She suddenly touched the strange brand on her shoulder, wincing slightly. Her other hand instinctively went to the pouch hidden in her jerkin.

Jack knew what was happening. Jones was sensing her presence. He didn't know where she was, but he knew she was there. They were somehow connected. Perhaps because Bree carried the music box with her at all times.

Will looked a little concerned. He leaned over, asking, "Are you alright?"

Jack nudged Bree, "Show 'im the music box, mate."

A little reluctantly, Bree pulled out the pouch, removing the box. Handing it to Will, she said, "I don't suppose ye saw that aboard the _Dutchman_, did ye?"

Recognition showed on Will's face as he handled the box. He nodded, saying, "Aye, I saw it. In Jones' cabin. It started playing and…it saved my life, in a way." His hand went to wind it, and this time both Bree and Jack gasped, "No!"

Will, startled, dropped the music box. It clattered onto the deck. The three stood staring at it, frozen.

Suddenly, it began to play. The tinkling notes started, and Bree couldn't have ever imagined a more horrible, terrifying sound. It was like the sound of her own doom. She looked at Jack, her eyes wide and her own terror was reflected in his, and then she looked at Will, who was confused but just as frightened.

"He heard it…" was all Bree said.


	7. The East India Trading Company

Chapter VII

The East India Trading Company

Bree stubbornly refused to leave Tortuga, her mind made up. "I ain't goin' out to sea ever again! Jones'll find me an' have the hide off me back when 'e does!"

Jack and Will tried to coax Bree to leave the isle, saying she could go with them to Port Royal, but once again, Bree refused, "If the _Pearl _can keep to the shallows, so can the _Dutchman_!"

Bree sat at her usual place in the tavern's back room, her arms crossed over her chest and her face set. She looked up as Will entered. He smiled at her, then went to her. He took her hand, saying, "Bree…I'm sorry for everything. If I had known that Jones could hear the music box, I wouldn't have even touched it! Please forgive me."

Bree patted Will's hand in a chummy way, "'Tis not yer fault, mate. I should never 'ave stolen it in the first place."

Bree looked to the side. A young woman entered the room.

Bree watched as the young woman approached. She looked like a proper lady. Bree stepped out from her place, and saw the woman halt, her eyes growing wide. Bree realized that her fins were visible. Embarrassed, she flattened them, trying to hide them.

Will spotted the young woman and smiled, going over to her and gently kissing her. Bree felt embarrassed and turned away, not wanting to watch this tender moment, feeling it not her place. When it was over she turned back, saying, "Um…we ain't been introduced yet, mate."

"This is Elizabeth, my fiancée," said Will, and to Elizabeth he said, "This is Bree, one of my latest pirate…acquaintances." He grinned at Bree. She grinned back, but saw Elizabeth gasp at the sight of her fangs. She quickly closed her mouth, mumbling, "Sorry…shoulda warned ye."

Will spoke softly to Elizabeth, "She was a pirate on the _Dutchman._ She has a few scars from that voyage."

Elizabeth looked at Bree and spoke, "Oh, so you were press ganged as well?"

Bree nodded, "Aye, mate. But I ended up escapin' from Jones."

Will turned to Elizabeth, "I'm glad you came. I think Bree might like to know what you found out."

Elizabeth sat down, speaking in a solemn tone, "I was just back at Port Royal, trying to find out all I could about the East India Trading Company."

At this, Bree winced, pressing her hand to her arm. Will and Elizabeth had both seen this. She must have had a run-in with Beckett as well, like Jack. Obviously she had a pirate brand.

Elizabeth continued, her voice urgent, "Norrington, a former commodore, stole the heart of Davy Jones from us. And he…he brought it to the East India Trading Company!"

Bree looked up at Elizabeth, eyes wide. Davy Jones' heart? In the hands of the East India Trading Company? Only two possible outcomes. Either the entire sea was under the command of the East India Trading Company or…Davy Jones would die.

Bree suddenly felt worried. But about which outcome? Surely about the first one. But…if Davy Jones died…no, she _wanted _that to happen!

Bree stood, her eyes resolute, "Well, someone should go an' get the heart back! Then we can stab it!" Her heart wrenched when she said this.

Elizabeth rose, nodding, "She's right. We need to go to Port Royal."

Bree stopped, thinking, "I can't go to sea. Ye and Will should go. Jack said somethin' about goin' to see someone…a witch doctor or somethin' else. Shouldn't be too hard for ye to find Beckett, aye?"

Elizabeth and Will nodded. They left the room, planning to hitch a ride on one of the merchant ships that snuck a free docking at the only free port left in these waters. Bree, meanwhile, went to find Jack.

Finding Jack wasn't too hard. All Bree had to do was follow the continuous sound of a flat palm hitting the cheek. Hard.

Bree found Jack ruefully rubbing his left cheek, grumbling something.

"What is this, the…fourth time this week?" Bree asked, amused.

"No, the fifth time _today_," Jack answered, still rubbing.

Bree bit back a smile, and then said, "Will and Elizabeth told me about the heart."

Jack stopped rubbing, "Elizabeth got back?"

Bree nodded, "Aye, an' she found out about the heart. I told her an' Will to go an' do anythin' they could to get it from the East India Trading Company. An' I'm gonna go with ye to visit that lady ye mentioned."

Jack waved his hand absently, "Ah, Tia Dalma, aye, ye can come. Beckett has the heart then? Well, there's the pirate life down the privy."

Bree growled, "Not if we fight back! I've got to get the heart back to Jon-" She stopped. No…no, they would stab the heart!

But Jack hadn't heard her. He spoke over the normal turmoil of Tortuga, "Would ye help me round up th' rest o' the crew, mate? Probably in the tavern somewhere. Thanks, luv."

He bent down and kissed her, but was soon rubbing his cheek again, Bree storming off in a huff. Jack smiled. Ah, what a pirate!

Bree hugged Will, saying, "Good luck, mate. Don't worry 'bout yer father. Once we get the heart back, we'll set 'im free!"

Will kissed Bree's cheek. Then he smiled, saying, "Best look at your back, mate. The fins are going away!"

Bree swiveled her body around and angled her head back. He was right! The fins were smaller! Her scars were healing. She grinned, and then turned to say goodbye to Elizabeth. The two girls hugged one another, and Elizabeth said, "Don't worry about us, Bree. You just take care of yourself!"

Bree watched from the pier as a ship, the _Goldwake_, sailed off from Tortuga, with Will and Elizabeth on board. She turned as Jack came up, followed by his crew. Jack was obviously a bit tipsy, bottle in hand and hat on crooked. He sniffed several times and then spoke, "Ah, Miss Bree, time for us to be shovin' off. Headed for Dia Talma's place, we are. O' course, we could always make a little cruise out o' it." He reeled drunkenly, almost falling into the water.

Bree sighed, stifling a smile of fondness. She pulled Jack upright, straightening his hat, supporting him and calling out to the crew, "I think our Cap'n wants us all on board, so 'e does!" She stepped back as Gibbs assisted Jack up to the _Pearl_.

As Bree boarded, she looked out over Tortuga. Ah, the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga! She breathed in the somewhat questionable air one last time and then stepped away from the railing. She had had a chance to clean up at Tortuga. Ah, to not be covered in slime and barnacles! Lovely.

Bree heard Gibbs taking over for Jack, who had gone to his cabin to 'chart a course'. Bree would've wagered anything that he was sleeping.

Bree climbed into her hammock, yawning and rubbing her limbs. Compared to the work on the _Dutchman_, life on the _Pearl_ was like sailing on a pleasure craft.

Bree pulled a curtain on a makeshift rod across. It had been thoughtfully put up by Gibbs in an attempt to give her some privacy from the all-male crew.

Bree leaned back, sighing contentedly. Ah, this was the life! A free pirate again! On the _Black Pearl_, no less! If any girl could truly call herself a pirate, it was Bree. And she drifted off to sleep with that knowledge.

Bree woke early again that morning, but so did everyone else. The ship lurched crazily, and all were thrown from their hammocks. Bree rose, nursing a bruised knee. She looked around, bewildered, "What 'appened?"

Gibbs, always the old salt and knowledgeable sailor, said, "Must've hit a reef. Or worse," he added, hurrying up on deck. Bree followed after him. What did he mean, _or worse?_ Gibbs. He was always so superstitious. Bree sometimes laughed at his silly little customs, but he always looked so serious.

Bree looked over the railing with Gibbs. "Aye, it's a reef, alright." She watched as Jack came over to look. He stuck out his tongue, "Well that isn't very nice," he muttered. Then he brightened, saying, "Well, at least we're in the shallows, a bit."

Gibbs nodded, shuddering for some reason. Bree looked from him to Jack, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jack didn't stay to talk. He began giving out orders, "Hard to port then hard to starboard. Free the rudder. Then we'll see how big a hole she's got. Damaged the hull, it has." He stuck his tongue out again.

Jack was right. Once they broke loose of the reef, they had to sail out to deeper waters, not deep enough to cause Jack to be uncomfortable, but deep enough to take a look at the hole. Bree volunteered to investigate. She was the best swimmer by far and could hold her breath much longer. Now that she wasn't undead anymore, she couldn't stay underwater for as long as she wished, but she could hold her breath long enough.

Bree climbed onto the railing, calling to Jack, "I'll take a look an' ye can haul me up."

Jack nodded, reaching to take her broadsword from her. But Bree stayed his hand, "'Tis all right, mate. I'd rather have it with me." Then she did a fantastic swan dive into the water.

Bree hit the water, cutting it like a knife as she swam gracefully. She swam down to the bottom of the hull, grimacing as she saw a large, jagged hole. It wouldn't be easy to plug it, but it was possible. She felt along the edges, bubbles streaming up from her mouth. It was a large hole, as long as she was tall.

Bree, by pure chance, looked down. A large bubble burst from her mouth as she gave a silent scream. Down below her, almost at the bottom, was a ship. A ship that was moving. And figures were moving with it. The _Flying Dutchman_!

Flailing around in the water, Bree floundered towards the hole, squeezing herself in as far as she could go, praying that they wouldn't see her. They must know the ship was there!

Peeking out around the edge of the hole, Bree watched the _Dutchman._ She was going right past them! Bree felt relief flood through her. She waited a bit longer, and then emerged from the hole. Her lungs were bursting. She swam up to the surface, gulping in the air greedily. When she had recovered, she called out frantically, "Pull me up! The _Dutchman_'s underneath us! Hurry!"

Jack heard Bree's words and felt panic rise, which wasn't very common in him. But if Bree was caught…he didn't dare think about it. Searching for a rope, Jack called out encouragingly to Bree, "No worries, mate, we'll have ye out!"

Bree floated there, treading water. She waiting, terror filling her as Jack kept searching for the rope. She called out with a slight sob in her voice, "Please!"

Just as a rope was flung out to her, and just as she reached for it, there was a great _whoosh _as the _Flying Dutchman_ surfaced. Bree was slammed onto the deck, her breath knocked from her as the ship lurched crazily, water cascading down from the railing. She was almost too stunned to do anything, but she kept her wits about her. Leaping up, Bree screamed out something to the _Pearl _and then turned her attention back to what was happening. Maccus was closing in on her, grinning wickedly as he unsheathed his sword.

Bree wasted no time. She drew her sword, giving a prayer of thanks for the fact she hadn't taken it off. Holding it before her, she beckoned Maccus forward, snarling, "C'mon, sharky! Try yer luck!"

Maccus lunged forward and swung out at Bree, but she parried and knocked him on the side of the head with her hilt, felling him. As she turned, he grabbed her foot, tripping her. She fell heavily, but flipped over, her sword held up defensively. Leaping up again, Bree slashed at one of the crew, leaving a gash in his side as she smacked another with the flat of her blade.

On the _Pearl_, Jack was watching Bree fight, but hiding so as not to be seen by Jones. She was amazing, but he knew he could do nothing for her. If he tried to fire at the _Dutchman_, the _Pearl _would be blown to splinters. He spotted Davy Jones, standing on the far side, watching Bree fight. Obviously the captain of the cursed ship was enjoying this. Who knew what he would do to Bree!

Bree was fighting fiercely, but she was fighting a losing battle. All her opponents couldn't die, so she couldn't win. But suddenly, they all stopped. Bree backed up, breathing hard. The pack of the crew parted, and Davy Jones himself strode forward. Bree watched in horror as he drew his sword in his good hand. To her surprise, the sword was clean and sharp, but dark like a deadly shadow.

Bree gripped her sword hilt tighter. She had always fought with a broadsword. She knew she was one of the only pirates who even owned one. That had often given her the advantage, but now she was facing another armed with a broadsword. And Jones was a far better fighter, and much stronger than her.

Jones struck first. His first blow hit Bree's blade squarely, and the clang of the blades could be heard all around. Bree was knocked to the side, her hand stinging from the blow. Then Jones slammed the flat of his blade into Bree's shoulder. Bree fell, gritting her teeth and trying to stand. As Jones went down to strike again, Bree dodged around him. She was quicker on her feet, and that was her advantage. She moved around him, still knowing she couldn't beat him, even if she had been a better fighter. She could only parry his attacks, trying to protect herself.

At last, Bree thrust out, but Jones slammed his blade into hers, spinning it out of her hand. Bree took off after it, but gave a sharp yelp as Jones grabbed the back of her neck with his claw, gripping her like a vice. He wrapped his arm around her waist, choking her. Bree couldn't move, her arms pinned to her sides. She could only stare in terror as the _Dutchman_ tilted down, preparing to go back into the depths.

Jack watched from the _Pearl _as the _Dutchman _began to descend. He could see Bree, her eyes wide and terrified. She was mouthing something, unable to shout because of the claw wrapped around her throat. Jack could only watch as she slowly descended into the water, her face streaked with tears, blood and grime, and her eyes pleading.

The _Dutchman _was gone. Bree was gone. Jack had lost many friends before. He always felt the pain at the loss. He felt it now. But Bree hadn't been taken while he fought for her. She had been taken as he stood on the decks of his ship, watching. And she wasn't dead. She was the prisoner of the dread Davy Jones. She was doomed to a living hell, now. She would most likely be forced to crew his ship for an eternity.

Gibbs stood beside Jack. He hadn't said a word. The tough old sailor turned to his captain, saying in an unsteady voice, "Cap'n? What…what are yer orders?"

Jack didn't say anything for a long while. He then turned to Gibbs, saying, "Erm…change o' course…we'll go to Port Royal, meet up wi' Will an' Miss Swann."

Gibbs nodded slowly, knowing as well as Jack that Bree was gone. With the _Pearl _holed, they had no chance of rescuing Bree.

Jack cleared his throat, then turned, "Well…don't just stand there! Change course! I think it's…that way." Jack pointed absently. Then he disappeared to his cabin.

Will and Elizabeth weren't expecting Jack's arrival. Of course, he couldn't simply sail into Port Royal or he would be arrested, hanged, along with his crew, and the _Pearl_ apprehended. So he anchored just where it was safe and sent one of the crew ashore to bring Will and Elizabeth.

Will sat across from Jack, asking, "Surely you didn't already go to see Tia?"

Jack nodded, "Aye, surely I didn't. But no, I surely did not do so for any real reason."

Elizabeth asked the question Jack was well prepared for, "Where's Bree?"

"Ah, Miss Bree. Well, she decided to stay in Tortuga. Lovely this time of year with the…ah…rum…and she just _loves _rum so she stayed there!" Jack's eyes were innocent enough to charm birds from trees.

Elizabeth and Will bought it, even though both couldn't see Bree sitting back and doing nothing. But they let the matter drop.

"Now, have ye found anythin' out about the heart?" Jack asked, leaning forward.

"Well, Beckett hasn't done anything with it yet," Will said, and Elizabeth began where he left off, "But he will! I know he will! He's probably already started but we can't tell yet!"

Jack sighed, leaning back, "Bugger."


	8. Jones' Lullaby

Chapter VIII  
Jones' Lullaby

The Flying Dutchman had surfaced, leagues away from the Pearl. Jones stood in front of Bree, looking at the girl, sopping wet, blood mixed with water dripping into her eyes. He felt several things at once. Exhilaration that he had caught her. Confusion as to why the Pearl was repaired. Anxiety…what if Jack was alive? Did he…did he have his heart?  
But Jones dismissed this from his mind as he looked at Bree. The girl was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, hiding her face. Her shoulders were shaking. When Jones called her name harshly, she obediently lifted her face. Jones felt pity stab through him. She was weeping. True terror and despair showed in her eyes. Jones had to shake himself to remember that he had to punish her.  
Jones signaled to the bosun, who stepped forward and hauled Bree up by the hair. But just as Bree steadied herself, she collapsed. Jones, confused, motioned for Jimmylegs to inspect her.  
The bosun ripped Bree's jerkin off, revealing her shirt, soaked with blood. He tore the shirt at the waist, revealing a long, deep gash in Bree's side. Jones' blood went cold. That was from his broadsword.  
Jimmylegs looked up at his captain, "She's been away from the Dutchman too long, sir. She'll die from this."  
"No!"   
The crew looked at their captain, puzzled and a bit startled. He looked…concerned. Jones looked flustered, and then said in a harsher voice, "She can't escape punishment!"  
The crew relaxed. This was the Davy Jones they all knew. But Jones surprised them all again. He stepped forward, taking Bree in his arms. He almost dropped her once, for he was shaking. He didn't know why, but he couldn't hold steady. She felt like she was a coal, burning his skin. She must have a fever, he reasoned.  
Davy Jones carried Bree towards his cabin, and then turned, calling, "Bootstrap, come with me."  
Bootstrap Bill hurried forward, concerned for his young friend. He reached out as if to take Bree from Jones' arms, but Jones pulled Bree closer, almost possessively, his eyes fierce. Bootstrap backed off, confused but not wishing to anger Jones.  
Jones carried Bree into his cabin with Bootstrap following behind. Jones spoke to Bootstrap, "Go get somethin' she can lie down on, an' a few blankets."  
Bootstrap, too worried about Bree to wonder why his captain was even bothering to care for her, hurried off to do his bidding.  
Jones, meanwhile, sat down, Bree partly sitting partly lying across his lap, her head supported by his elbow. Jones looked at her. Her face was smeared with blood and grime. But somehow she looked…peaceful.   
Jones almost wished that Bootstrap had taken longer to find what he needed, though he didn't admit this to himself. He rose, standing to the side as Bootstrap arranged a makeshift cot for Bree in the corner of the room, near the great organ. After making it as secure and comfortable as possible, Bootstrap stepped back. Jones went forward and laid Bree down, wadding a blanket up and placing it under her head.  
Bootstrap then covered Bree with two blankets, the best he could find, and stepped back, awaiting his captain's orders. Jones didn't take his eyes from Bree. He simply said, "Leave."  
Bootstrap nodded and left, saying a silent prayer for his friend.  
Jones sat beside the makeshift cot, looking at Bree. But he couldn't waste time just looking at her. If he planned to save her, he had to work.  
Reaching out slowly, almost timidly, Jones tore more of Bree's shirt at the side. He bared her torso, tearing a strip from an old blanket and wiping the dirt and blood from the wound. It was a deep wound. Jones felt his soul aching. He had caused this wound. Bree was probably in pain, even if she was unconscious.  
After Jones had finished cleaning the wound, he began making a type of poultice. Jones had stored away some old remedies. Before he became undead, he had needed things like this. He began to thank fortune that he had them now, before he remembered that he was only healing Bree so he could punish her later.  
Jones tore a strip from another blanket and began binding Bree's wound. He tried to avoid touching Bree's bare skin while doing this, but once, his hand brushed her back as he pulled the bandage around her torso. Her skin felt…warm. Jones gritted his teeth, tying off the bandage. Done.  
Jones stood, looking down at his hand. Why was it still warm? The warmth was spreading, up his arm, across his chest and down until it was in his whole body. He bit his lip. No, he was just tired.  
Stepping back, Jones looked at Bree. She wouldn't wake for at least another day. She had lost so much blood. And by the time she woke, she would be back in her own hammock. And the crew would swear on pain of a horrible punishment to hold their tongues.

Bree felt like she was on fire.

One can't always escape in dreams. Not in fevered dreams.

Bree looked down at her side. There was a brand, a flaming brand, fused to her. She tried to pull it loose, but it wouldn't budge. She tried to say something, but in the dream realm you can't talk.

Bree's pain intensified. She felt something wrapping around her waist. And then, another searing flame touching her back only for an instant. But this flame didn't hurt. It was…wonderful.

Jones had been in an out of his cabin that day, mostly attending to his duties as captain but also caring for Bree. He would either simply glance in at her or maybe spend an hour watching her.

That night Jones retired to his cabin, sitting with his back to Bree. Suddenly, there was a solid knock at the door. Jones was confused. No one ever came to his cabin without being ordered! But he called out roughly, "Enter."

The door opened and Bootstrap Bill entered the room. His gaze went to Bree, and without properly addressing his captain, he asked, "Is she all right?"

Without permission, Bootstrap went to Bree's side, his concern evident. Jones felt annoyed. Part of his annoyance was the fact that Bootstrap had practically barged in but the other part was…he was somehow disappointed that he wasn't the only one who cared for Bree. No! He didn't care for Bree! He had to mentally remind himself this often.

Bootstrap looked down at Bree with all the love of a father. She had become like a daughter to him. He reached out and tenderly stroked the hairs from her damp brow. Bree made a slight sound, and Jones could see a faint smile curl the corners of her lips. Bootstrap smiled as well, stroking Bree's cheek, an affectionate, fatherly caress.

Jones felt envy stab him. Somehow, seeing Bree and Bootstrap's relationship…made him jealous. The closeness, the tenderness…

Jones cleared his throat, literally pulling Bootstrap away. He felt suddenly very territorial. Territorial of Bree. Bootstrap kept looking back at Bree, "Shouldn't I stay and take care of her?"

Jones snarled, "No! Get back below!"

Bootstrap took one last glance at Bree, and then left. Jones slammed the door angrily, Bootstrap's visit fanning the flame of anger in him. He walked over to Bree's side. Bootstrap had stroked her forehead. Why did he have a sudden desire to do that as well? Jones swallowed. Maybe he could…just to see if she had a fever…just to see…

Jones bent down slightly, reaching out timidly, haltingly. Bree made a small movement with her head, and Jones' hand snapped back. He snarled in anger. What was wrong with him?

Jones didn't sleep that night. He couldn't. Not with Bree sleeping so close.

Jones dusted off the keys to his organ, shooing away the sea creatures crawling across.

Bree suddenly began to moan. Jones froze. No, she couldn't wake! He rose, going to her side. Her hand was going to her wound. Jones gently took her hand by the wrist, forcing it to the opposite side. Bree's face was tensed with pain. Jones went back to his organ. Maybe his song would soothe her. He knew she liked it. He had heard her singing to it.

The music was softer this time. Jones played it like a lullaby. A lullaby for her. For Bree.

Bree's face relaxed, and she lay still, a faint light falling across her cheek. Jones angled his head around to watch her. She was breathing peacefully. Jones was touched that his song would soothe her so.

After Jones had finished his song, he turned to watch Bree. She was in a deep sleep, he could tell. Good. He went to her, untying her bandage. Gently removing it, he tore another clean strip from the blanket and began binding Bree's torso. Why was he taking care of her? _So I can punish her_, he remembered.


	9. The Kraken

Chapter IX

The Kraken

Bree woke, her head clearing as well as her vision. She looked up. Bootstrap was leaning over her, looking down at her with concern. When he saw she was awake, he relaxed, "Ye're awake!"

Bree tried to sit up, but winced as her side flexed. She looked down. A bandage was wrapped around her torso. She grimaced, "How long have I been sleepin'?"

"Three days," Bootstrap answered, helping her out of her hammock. Bree looked at her back. The fins were growing again. Bree blinked back tears. A prisoner again.

Bree was back at work that day. She impressed everyone by not slacking, even though the gash in her side caused her pain. But Bree made a mental note to thank Bootstrap. He had taken good care of her! The wound wasn't infected and the bandage wasn't wrapped too tight.

Bree was taking a short respite when she saw Jones walking toward her. Bree turned her back to him, raising her head haughtily.

Jones sat down beside Bree, asking in a conversational tone, "How's yer side?"

Bree, startled that he was once again showing a slight concern for her, answered, "Aches, but it's fine. An' I have ye to thank for even havin' it! That was _yer _broadsword!"

Jones bristled, snarling, "Well, I hope it stings for a long time, then!" He was slightly hurt by her words. He had taken very good care of her! Of course, she didn't know that. And she never would!

Jones rose, walking away. Bree sighed in relief. Now she could rest for a while. Her side was on fire again, the stress on it causing her pain. But she still marveled at how well it had been mended. Bootstrap must have had some knowledge of the healing arts.

She sidled up to Bootstrap, "Never go to thank ye, mate. I'm grateful for yer help."

Bootstrap smiled at her, "Always ready to help a mate. I'm sorry yer side's still painin' ye. An' I'm sorry ye're back aboard this floatin' prison."

Bree winced as she flexed her side, gingerly touching the wound, "Well, ye did a fine job takin' care o' me, mate."

Bootstrap shook his head, "No, mate. I didn't do anythin'."

Bree looked up at him, confused, "But…no one here would help me! An' no one would handle it with such gentle hands!"

Bootstrap, still keeping to his oath of silence, looked at her, and then glanced at the captain. Bree followed his gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw the captain. No…no, not him!

Bree turned to Bootstrap, "No, he wouldn't have! Stop jokin'!" But Bootstrap only turned, going about his chores.

Bree's hand went to the bandage around her torso. Jones couldn't have done it! He didn't care if she lived or died! But if he did…why was Bree's heart beating so hard?

Bree was sleeping as peacefully as possible in her hammock, snoring contentedly. Suddenly, she was shoved out of it. She landed catlike on all fours, her wits still sharp. She looked up, her eyes hard. The bosun stood over her, grinning wickedly. He held his whip, but didn't use it. All he said was, "Cap'n wants ye on deck."

Bree hissed at him, "Ye can tell him to boil 'is head!"

Bree arched her back as the whip fell, but she rose reluctantly, shoving Jimmylegs to the side. She pulled on her jerkin, heading up onto the deck.

Jones was waiting for Bree. Bree was surprised to see him holding her sword in his hand. She looked up at him, cocking her head. She spoke, "Can I have my sword back?"

Jones twirled the blade deftly, and then said, "Aye, if ye're strong enough to get it." Without further ado, he drove it almost effortlessly into the deck, all the way up to the hilt. Bree's eyes widened. Anger began stirring in her. She bared her teeth, hissing, "Ye don't think I can pull it out?"

Jones shook his head, and then moved back, allowing Bree some room. The crew had gathered around to watch, taunting and jeering at Bree.

Bree strode forward, growling at her captain, "If ye could do it that easily, I can do it too!"

She bent, gripping the hilt. She began to tug, straining and grunting, her muscles standing out like whipcords. The tension and strain caused her side to go numb with pain. Everyone fell silent to watch, and only Bree's grunts could be heard.

Suddenly, the sword blade moved up an inch. Then another, and another, until it slid free. Bree stood, shaking splinters from the blade. She brandished it, twirling it. She looked up at her crewmates, and they all stepped back, fear on their faces. Bree snarled at them, and then turned to the captain. He hadn't moved or said anything. But he nodded to her, acknowledging her strength and, in a way, showing some slight respect…and admiration. Bree swallowed, nodding back. Why did she feel as if she…needed to say something?

Bree sheathed her sword, strapping it to her back. Then she turned, going back down into the hold. Her crewmates gave her room, not daring to anger her after her display of strength.

Bree climbed back into her hammock, grinning wildly. Ah, to have her sword back! 'Twas a lovely thing!

Bree stood at the prow, stroking the chain of a small necklace. It had been a gift from Jack, before they set sail on the _Pearl _from Tortuga. She hadn't told anyone about it. But at least she had something to link her to her friends.

Suddenly, the _Dutchman _lurched crazily. Bree was knocked over, rolling across the deck. She scrambled up, running to the side.

Bree stood at the railing, looking down into the water. She could see the water churning and frothing, but didn't know what caused it. She turned to look at her captain, but found her confusion reflected.

Suddenly, a huge, slimy tentacle shot from the water and coiled itself around Bree's waist. With a terrible, painful jerk, Bree was yanked from the ship's deck and flailed about in the air.

That was probably the first time Bree had ever really screamed. A true, blood-chilling, frantic, high-pitched scream, filled with absolute terror. She felt her ribs groaning and her wound on fire as the tentacle tightened, trying to crush her undead body. Bree cried out in agony as the huge beast's tentacles began suctioning the remaining skin from her back. Then she was slammed down into the water, the tentacle still crushing her middle.

Bree was able to jerk her sword free of the scabbard, wielding it with fading strength. She stabbed down into the giant tentacle, and felt it release. She disentangled herself and looked down. Then she saw it.

A huge squid.

The Kraken!

A scream burst from Bree's mouth in the form of a huge bubble. The beast must have either heard it or sensed her movement, for it turned towards her. Bree began flailing up towards the surface, but she felt the remaining breath wrenched from her body as another huge tentacle encircled her. This time it lifted her into the air, and Bree first sucked in a huge breath and used it all in her scream. She was tossed around like a rag doll, her sword still clutched in her hand. But she was too terrified to use it.

Suddenly, Bree was flung down, and she landed hard on the deck of the _Dutchman. _However, the Kraken wasn't letting her go. The tentacle snaked up the sides to come after her again. Bree scrambled up, her sword in her hands as she began backing away, her face pale and her eyes wide with horror. She bumped up against something and turned. Davy Jones grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close to him as if to protect her. He then made his way to the tentacle seeking Bree out, still holding the girl close to him. He tapped it gently with his claw, and like magic, the Kraken withdrew its limbs.

Bree was sobbing, actually clinging to her captain with fear. Jones, his arms still around Bree's waist, still held her tightly, but soon let go of her, acting as if he was disgusted. Bree cleared her throat, acting the same, but her heart was beating wildly. He had just saved her!

But it wasn't as safe as she thought. The ship lurched again and the tentacle rose from the water, swaying like a cobra.

Bree went pale again, unable to move from fear. Jones went to her and bent down, finally ripping Jack's necklace from her. The captain examined it, and then asked, "What is this?"

Bree didn't understand, "It's a trinket."

Jones went to the side of the ship and tossed the necklace out into the water. Bree gave a little sound of protest but kept away from the side, still fearful of the Kraken.

The little necklace floated on the calmed waves for a moment, when suddenly a huge mouth opened right underneath it like Charybdis herself. Huge fangs and claw-like structures grew from the inside, rows upon rows. The necklace was sucked down and the mouth snapped shut, descending back into the depths with a huge splash.

Bree's eyes had never grown so big. Her hands gripped the railing so hard that she actually formed grooves in the wood, and her mouth had dropped open. Her face was dead white, unspeakable fear gripping her.

Jones turned to the girl, somewhat enjoying her fear, but knowing he had other things to address, "Where did ye get that necklace?"

Bree didn't answer, still staring at the place where the Kraken had been. Jones growled. She was in shock. She wouldn't speak for days, most likely.

Jones struck Bree across the face again, but nothing fazed her. She sat like one dead, and then started to fall over. She would have fallen straight over the side if Jones hadn't grabbed her by her jerkin collar and hauled her back over. He dropped her carelessly, and she lay on the deck, her hands clenched near her mouth and her eyes never blinking.

Jones sneered in distaste. Let her lie there! He moved off, forcing himself not to look back. Somehow, relief was creeping into his emotions.

Bootstrap had seen his friend in the clutches of the Kraken, and knew that she was in too much shock to do anything. He came to her side, pulling her upright into a sitting position. He propped her up, and her back became rigid, and she was able to sit up on her own. Bootstrap angled her head around to face him, and spoke in a gentle voice, like one trying to sooth a frightened child, "Bree? Bree, it's all right. It's me. Don't worry, ye're safe. C'mon, mate, ye can't sit here all day!"

Bree's eyes looked straight at him, but she showed no reaction, recognition or any sign of real life. Bootstrap sighed, knowing it was useless. She needed to rest for at least a day. Bending down, he lifted her in his arms and made his way down to the hold. Placing her in her hammock, he positioned her so she wouldn't fall out. He would try to wake her from her coma in a few hours.

Bree's eyes had been open for three hours, never blinking. Now, they blinked. Bree came back to reality with a sharp gasp, still reliving the horrors of the Kraken. She sat up, feeling cold. She wrapped a ragged blanket around her shoulders, feeling her back. Several large suction scars were still throbbing with pain, and she still shook with lasting terror. Eyes wide and bloodshot, Bree forced herself to rise. She didn't want to face the captain.

Going up to the deck, Bree looked about for Bootstrap. He saw her first.

"Bree! Thank fortune ye're awake, mate! Are ye well enough to leave the hold?"

Bree absently patted his shoulder, looking past him with unsteady eyes, "Aye, mate…Where…where's the cap'n?"

Bootstrap steadied her and spoke, ''e's waitin' for ye, mate."

Bree winced, having no choice but to go to her captain.

Jones was at the bow, waiting for Bree. When she approached, he spoke, "Where did ye get that necklace?"

Bree felt her neck hairs rise as he said this. Something wasn't right, "From a friend."

Jones didn't seem convinced, "Recent friend?"

Bree swallowed, "Aye, sir."

Jones' tentacles became restless, moving agitatedly, "Who was it?"

Bree knew it now. Jones suspected Jack! She couldn't give him away! Jones might have seen that the _Pearl _was back but he still didn't know if Jack Sparrow was alive. She intended to protect her friend.

"Speak, girl!" Jones growled, his voice icy.

Bree tensed her lips, answering, "Why should ye care?"

Jones broke her gaze, standing and pacing back and forth before her, his claw clenching. He then whirled around to face her again, and Bree was sure he was going to beat her. But she was surprised. He had an agonized look in his eyes.

"Please…please tell me."

Bree's mouth fell open. Had her captain, Davy Jones, terror of the seas, just said please? To _her_? She was so surprised that she slipped, "Jack…" Her mouth snapped shut, but it was too late. She might as well say it.

Davy Jones' eyes grew hard again as he spoke the name with her.

"Jack Sparrow."


	10. In the Mouth of the Beast

Chapter X

In the Mouth of the Beast

Bree scurried into the captain's cabin, her chest heaving as Jimmylegs slammed the door behind her. Bree looked around, confused and unsure of what to expect. Jones stood in the corner, sharpening his sword. Bree watched him, listening to the sound of the blade on the whetting stone. It made her uncomfortable.

At last, Jones turned, sheathing his weapon. Bree came to attention, eyes front. Jones nodded to her, speaking, "Ye're to come with me on an important errand."

Bree opened her mouth to say something but Jones stopped her, "No, don't speak. I chose ye because ye're the only one I can trust with a broadsword. The others would just slice their own guts out."

Bree nodded, asking, "Where are we goin'?"

Jones opened the door to his cabin, striding out on deck. Bree followed him, checking to see if her own sword was in place. Jones said a few whispered words to Maccus, and then turned to Bree. He gestured to the side, "Go."

Bree was confused. Then Jones hauled her up by her collar and flung her over the side. Bree, too startled to call out, hit the water hard. But she immediately tried to swim up, only to find herself sinking to the bottom. She started to panic until she remembered that she didn't have to breath.

Bree touched down on the sandy seabed, looking up. She saw a splash and saw someone else sinking down. Jones.

Bree watched as her captain landed beside her. His beard of tentacles was flailing about on his shoulders. Bree's hair was doing the same thing, and it took her a while to get it out of her face.

Jones beckoned Bree forward, and the girl obeyed. Jones began speaking, and once again Bree could hear the garbled speech, "When I give ye the signal, I want ye to strike at the first thing ye see."

This was an odd order, but Bree nodded. She checked her sword again, and then set off following Jones. They both walked along the sea bed for about ten minutes before Bree felt a vibration. She looked up. The _Dutchman_ was sending off waves in the water. Bree hadn't seen that before.

As Bree walked along she was wondering why she didn't simply turn around and sneak away. _I'd be caught, _Bree guessed. After all, Jones seemed to sense every movement she made.

Bree turned her attention back to the present. Jones had stopped. He stood still, hand on sword hilt, waiting. Bree stood waiting too, but for what, she didn't know.

Then Bree saw it. A huge, foggy shape emerged through the water, coming towards them. Fear filled Bree's mouth with its foul taste. She tried to swallow but couldn't. She looked to Jones, who simply stood there.

The thing came closer. And closer. Bree could see what it was.

The Kraken!

All Bree's terror came back. She wanted to scream, but her mouth wouldn't move. Her fins were sticking straight out, like fur on a startled cat's back.

Jones drew his sword, and Bree automatically drew hers as well. She waited, terror making her dizzy as the Kraken drew nearer. It at last reached them. It seemed to land, and Bree could see it's huge head and eyes. Bree felt cold, prickly horror go up her spine. The thing's head was only a yard away from Jones! And yet her captain never even flinched.

The Kraken revealed its monstrous mouth, teeth curved and jagged. Then, it snapped forward!

Jones dodged to the side, and then, to Bree's utter horror, he charged straight into the monster's mouth!

"_Bree! Now!_"

Bree ran forward, slashing away at huge tentacles, striking anything that came close enough. Anyone watching would have thought she was totally fearless, but that wasn't the case. Bree had never been more frightened in her entire life! But the adrenaline was rushing through her body and she hacked and stabbed madly, blood fouling the water in red clouds. One particularly hard slash severed the end of a tentacle.

The falling tentacle hit Bree, knocking her down. She flipped over, looking up. Her mouth dropped open. Jones was standing in the monster's mouth, feet spread out between the rows of teeth. His claw was holding the beast's jaws back from snapping him in two, and his sword was plunged up to the hilt in the roof of the Kraken's mouth. With a roar, Jones pulled his blade free and leaped away, far more nimbly than Bree thought possible with only one leg.

Bree tried to rise, only to be knocked flat again by a flailing tentacle. Jones ran to her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her out of the way. They ran until they were out of danger from the beast's death throes.

Bree turned, watching as the Kraken thrashed about in the water, blood spurting from its mouth. It at last crashed to the side, twitching and sending up huge waves that rocked the _Dutchman _above them. Bree would have been panting, but underwater she couldn't. Her heart was hammering in her ears, and the water made it a dull sound.

Bree felt Jones take her arm and wrap his other arm around her waist. Then Bree felt herself lifting. She may not be able to swim anymore, but Jones could.

After the two had been hauled back aboard, Bree sat huddled up on a coil of rope, still recovering from what had just happened. Her first encounter with the Kraken had frightened her badly. This one had terrified her.

Bree looked up to see Jones standing over her. She didn't acknowledge him, so he spoke first, "Bree…ye did alright down there."

Bree was still shivering, only nodding slightly. Then Jones, so as not to seem impressed, said, "At least ye didn't faint." He turned, going back to his more important duties.

Bree shuddered, her ears pounding from the pressure of the water and the reverberating roar of the dying Kraken. She was too tired and frightened to be confused. Why had Jones killed his own beast?

Jones sat in his cabin, head in claws. _What have I done?_

If only he hadn't let Jack off that easily when his debt had to be paid! If only he hadn't carved his own heart out centuries ago! If only he hadn't met _her!_

There was no point in going through all the _if only'_s. The Kraken was dead. And by its master's hand, too. Jones was sure of it now. Someone had his heart and was using it. And the first name that came to mind was that cursed name that tasted like a poison on his tongue.

_Jack Sparrow!_

Penrod hated Bree. He hated everything about her. Perhaps it was the fact that she was bigger than him. Or perhaps it was the fact that she was a better worker. Or perhaps it was the fact that she was gaining more of the captain's attention. Penrod had wheedled and whined and sucked up to Jones, and even though Jones despised the little cabin boy, he didn't completely ignore him.

Now Bree had taken the place of favorite young one. Not that Bree was pampered, in fact she was treated as harshly as ever, but everyone knew that Jones respected her. And the crew had started to become fond of the girl as well.

Penrod was always the bully. He enjoyed tormenting the girl and making her life more miserable, if that was possible. And today was no exception.

Bree was carving a small figurine from a block of old driftwood. However, her peaceful moment was interrupted as Penrod began bullying her. He knocked the figurine from her hands and started snitching at her with his antennae. Bree took it all in stony silence.

Penrod went too far. He began insulting Bree's old ship, the _Goresail_, calling the captain a coward and the crew sniveling. Bree unfolded herself from the corner, standing up. She was a head taller than Penrod. She stepped up and spoke in a dangerously low voice, almost sounding like Jones when he was angry, "D'ye wish to take any o' that back, _mate_?"

Penrod was a little too confident, and went on, "Why should I when it's all true? Yer captain was a pansy an' yer crewmates were frogs!"

Penrod blanched as Bree's hackles rose. Her teeth were bared and her eyes were blazing with hatred. Her muscles tensed and she stepped forward, ready to fight. Penrod thought it wise to leave now. But it was too late.

With a vicious snarl, Bree sprang forward, throttling Penrod and punching at his eyes. The noise alerted the other crewmembers. They all came hurrying down, but only stopped to watch. Poor Penrod was taking a brutal beating from Bree.

Bree at last slammed Penrod's head into the side of the wall and let go. He slid to the floor, unconscious. Bree turned to the others, her warrior blood up and her eyes blazing so fiercely that the crew all stepped back, the same fear they had for the captain in their eyes as they looked on her. When she was angry, she grew wild.

Bree growled, calling out, "Anyone else want some?"

Bree turned to Clanker, but he backed away. She snarled at Jimmylegs, who also backed away. She growled at Crash, who followed his mates' examples.

Bree stamped her foot down, spitting scornfully, "Cowards, that's what ye are! Cowards!"

Bootstrap knew his friend was a true warrior, but her temper was out of control. He pushed through to her, but she stopped him, "No, Bootstrap! Don't try to stop me! It's time to show everyone what happens to a bully!"

Bootstrap grabbed Bree and pinned her arms to her sides, hissing into her ear, "Penrod's learned 'is lesson, mate! There's no need for it!"

Bree struggled but Bootstrap simply lifted her as she flailed her arms and legs in the air, letting her anger burn out.

Bree continued to growl but went still. Bootstrap let her go and she hauled Penrod up, pushing him toward the others, "If 'e ever wakes up, tell 'im I could 'ave plucked 'is pretty whiskers off one by one!"

Jones emerged from his cabin right as Oldhaddy hauled Penrod up to the deck. Jones could see the shrimpy cabin boy was badly beaten up. He called out harshly, "What happened to 'im?"

Oldhaddy pressed a knuckle to his forehead and answered, "Miss Bree, sir. She gave 'im a proper beatin'."

Jones had to bite back a grin. Bree certainly could fight. It didn't pay to get on her bad side. He strode forward and kicked Penrod viciously, rousing him. The little bully cringed away from his captain, but all Jones said was, "Next time I catch ye causin' trouble, I'll string ye up by yer legs!"

Penrod winced as Oldhaddy grabbed him by his shell and hauled him upright, but the captain was already walking away, back to his cabin. Penrod and Oldhaddy looked at one another, a little confused. Then the older pirate pushed Penrod back down the hold, mumbling threats and curses.

Bree passed the two on the way to the deck, and Penrod cringed away from her, but Bree didn't even glance at him. She went to the bow, arms crossed. She _had _to get out of here! She just had to!

Before she didn't want to!


	11. Old Clothes and Memories

Chapter XI

Old Clothes and Memories

Bree stood over the corpse of a freshly slain merchant sailor. She bent her head and said a quick prayer for the man's soul, and then took hold of his feet, dragging him to the side of the ship. She beckoned to Penrod, who obediently scampered over to her, cringing and scraping before her. He and Bree hauled the man over the side, watching the limp form splash into the depths. Penrod looked to Bree, who waved absently.

As Bree searched the ship with the others, she looked toward the prow. No prisoners this time, it seemed. Bree cleaned the blood and gore from her sword, placing it back in its sheath. Good. Better to die than live this half life.

Jones was standing at the railing when Maccus came to him, hauling a chest behind him. He dumped it at his captain's feet, grinning, "Lookit what we found!" He threw back the lid. Jones' eyes darkened. It was a lady's chest, filled with pearls and hand mirrors and parasols and scarves and a dress. Jones looked away, shrugging, "I suppose ye'll want that fer yerself?"

Maccus chuckled, whispering to his master, "No, sir. But what of Miss Bree? Can't we get some fun outta these with her?"

Jones bristled, the two tentacles hanging either side of his mouth curling up. He turned to Maccus, "An' what sort o' fun?"

Maccus quailed. He stuttered, "Just…I dunno…"

Jones turned to the chest, bending down and taking out the dress. He held it up. It was a pretty dress. He had never seen Bree in a dress. _She'd look lovely in this…_

Jones folded the dress over his arm, waving his hand to Maccus, "If there's any jewelry in that, ye can share it amongst yer crewmates. But this…this is mine."

Maccus saluted, hauling the chest off to loot through.

Jones looked down at the dress. It was a light blue. It would bring out Bree's eyes. Jones clenched his jaw. _I'll make 'er wear it! She probably hates dresses! She'll see that I can make 'er do whatever I want!_

Bree was totally unprepared when Bootstrap entered the hold, a dress slung over his arm. He held it out to her, "Cap'n says ye're to wear this."

Bree's mouth dropped open. A _dress?_ Surely he was joking! Bree had never worn a dress in her life! She folded her arms over her chest and spoke in a haughty voice, "Ye can tell the captain I'd rather wear a dress o' sea urchins!"

Bootstrap gave her a look, saying, "Please, Bree. Humor him. Besides, ye'd look lovely in this dress."

Bree snorted, but Bootstrap urged and coaxed her until she had no choice. She yanked the dress away sullenly, retreating to a corner. Bootstrap thoughtfully pinned a blanket to the wall to give her some privacy.

Bree removed her clothes, looking over herself. Surely this dress wouldn't fit her! She had a figure, but her curves were small and gradual. The dress was also made for a girl who had slender shoulders. Bree had broad shoulders for a girl, and she had a thin waist. But she slipped on the dress anyway.

It fit better than expected. Bree felt ridiculous. It took her over half an hour to put it on, trying to find the place to put her arms and head and how to tie everything. And she felt uncomfortable. The dress cut low in the front, and she felt slightly exposed.

Bree stepped out from behind the curtain. Bootstrap stood watch for her in case one of the crew tried to tear down the blanket. Bree cleared her throat. Bootstrap turned. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw her.

Bree saw his look and growled, "I look ridiculous, don't I?"

Bootstrap looked her over, shaking his head, "On the contrary, mate. Ye look…beautiful!" He stepped forward, undoing her braids and letting her hair fall about her shoulders.

Bree moved forward a pace, finding it hard to walk in the high heeled shoes. Of course when she ascended to the deck she nearly tripped over her skirt.

The entire crew stopped working when Bree appeared. Some of the crew hadn't seen a woman in over one hundred years. Bree wasn't a girl anymore. Not in a dress.

Bree stood, squirming under the gaze of the crew, feeling their lewd grins. She tugged at one of the ribbons of her skirt, hearing the captain coming out of his cabin.

Jones paused at the door, unsure of what he was doing. Wouldn't it just hurt him more to see her like this? _No, I'm simply doin' it to humiliate 'er!_ he remembered.

Jones pushed the door open, stepped out…and stopped.

Before him stood an angel.

The color of the dress did bring out Bree's eyes. The dress left her shoulders bare, and her hair fell about them. The dress sleeves cut off at the elbow and had a long trim of frilly lace. The waist had small slashes on the sides that tied off with ribbon. Bree, in her normal garb, had a hidden form. But now, with the corsette and dress, looked like a real woman. A matured, fully bloomed woman.

Jones stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Bree. He couldn't tear them away. He stopped right in front of her, looking down at her. Bree's chest was heaving. Her eyes were wide and frightened. But they were so…so innocent.

Jones, forgetting himself, said softly, "You look lovely…"

A beautiful pink blush crept into Bree's cheeks, and Jones felt a rush of exhilaration come from seeing it. But Bree looked just as startled and surprised at it.

Jones remembered himself and snapped out of his daydream, snarling, "But it's only the dress. I think the other clothes fit ye better, whelp."

Bree's face showed a hint of a hurt expression, but she made a show of snarling back. But Jones felt a pang of remorse. Should he have left it alone?

Bree sniffed and said, "I've never worn a dress before. An' I never wanted to! Took me forever to get on!"

One of the crewmembers made a cat call and spoke suggestively, "Come over here an' we'll see how long it takes to git off!"

Jones' beard waved menacingly at the guilty crewmember, "Stow th' gab, Master Hadras! Or that shell o' yers'll go sailin' over the side!"

Hadras backed away, securing his head to his neck.

Bree watched as Jones surveyed her. Part of her was squirming under his gaze, but the other…the other was agonizing over what he thought.

_Does he think I'm pretty?_

Jones' eyelid twitched, and he turned, limping off to his cabin.

Bree's shoulders slumped. She stood for a while, enduring the sound of her mates calling out lewdly to her. She turned to go back to the hold, only to find her way barred by Clanker and Koleniko. Koleniko chucked her under the chin, saying rudely, "Didn't know ye looked so fine in a dress, missy!"

Bree growled, backing away. She bumped into Crash, who put his arm around her waist. Bree snarled, "Ye're all mad! Just because I'm wearin' a dress don't make me a lady!" She kicked off her shoes, running off towards the bow as the others called rudely after her, laughing and joking in vulgar tones.

Bree felt tears budding in her eyes. She scrambled over to the bowsprits, tearing the skirt of her dress. She slid down, clutching at the bowsprit and weeping unashamedly.

_Why am I cryin'?_

Was she disappointed? Disappointed that Jones hadn't approved?

_He hates me._

But she hated him! She hated everything about this ship! She hated everyone except Bootstrap, and she hated the captain most of all!

So…

_Why am I cryin'?_

Bree sat in the hold, back in her old clothes. One of the crewmembers had taken the dress. He said Jones was going to keep it and burn it later. Bree clenched her fists grimly. Good. Best burn it. She would've done the same thing.

But Jones didn't burn it. Once it had been brought to him, he had dismissed the crewmember, still holding the dress. He put his hand inside it, near the waist area. It was warm. So warm pressed to his cold, slimy hand. He shuddered.

Jones folded the dress neatly, stowing it away under his desk. He would burn it later. Memories were cruel. Best to get rid of them. He looked at the empty space where his music box had once been. He blinked back a slimy tear.

Why did he have to have _two_ constant reminders?


	12. Bargaining

Chapter XII

Bargaining

Jack Sparrow stood at the railing, looking through his glass. He could see the outline of the land in the distance, framed against the sky. He bit his lip, hoping that Elizabeth had heard right.

The young woman had managed to disguise herself as a maid and sneak into Beckett's office. In doing so she discovered that Norrington had the heart of Davy Jones in his possession, keeping it safe and hidden. Beckett couldn't risk keeping it in his office. Too many people knew about it and it wasn't safe. But Norrington, restored somewhat to his former position, had agreed to take it with him where he could still use it. Beckett would contact him and send orders. Norrington's sense of honor was too high. He wouldn't disobey.

Elizabeth stood at the railing, looking down into the water. Will came to join her. After a while, he spoke, "What's wrong, Elizabeth? You've been distant, lately."

Elizabeth answered, still not looking at Will, "I…I have this feeling. Like something isn't right."

Will nodded, "I'm glad I'm not the only one. Even Jack seems to be acting strange."

Elizabeth turned to Will, giving him a sidelong glance. Will stifled a grin, "All right, strang_er_."

"Well, ye're lucky I can still fix a ship, mates. Otherwise the _Pearl_ would be sunk, an' ye along with it."

Will and Elizabeth turned to see Jack standing behind them. His normal jocular look was gone. His words weren't a reprimand but they weren't playful either. He looked out over their heads, as if trying to see something they couldn't.

Elizabeth turned to look back over the waves. She leaned out, looking back at the stern. Was it only her imagination, or was a shadow following close behind the _Pearl_?

Bree lay on her hammock, dabbing at a small cut over her eye. _Not a very nice way to use a belayin' pin_, she thought. She brought the rag away from her eye and looked at it. Hmm…still bleeding. She pressed it against the cut again.

Bootstrap wasn't talking much. Bree smiled. It had been pleasant to tell him that his son was alive. In all the turmoil that had been going on, Bree had forgotten all about it. Only last night she had told him that not only was Will alive, but the canny Captain Jack Sparrow was as well.

Of course, now Bootstrap understood why Jones had changed course. He was following said canny captain.

Bree wadded up one of her blankets and put it near the head of her hammock, flopping back. She brought the rag away again. Still bleeding. She grimaced. Her blood was steadily turning to a black ooze. _Mortals have blood. I have…sludge._

Bree yawned, pressing the rag back to her head. She rolled over onto her side, moaning comfortably. She stretched her arm out, forming a fist and pulling her knees up to her chest in a childish sleeping position.

Bree jerked as someone came down into the hold. She looked up, throwing the rag from her. Greenbeard looked into the hold at the others, calling out, "On yer hunkers, mates! Cap'n says we're to go down!"

Bree scrambled out of her hammock, nearly flipping over with it but landing on all fours. She pulled on her boots and buckled on her broadsword. She then followed the others up to await the captain's orders.

The young girl was one of the last to leave the hold, so the descent was already beginning once she emerged. She turned to see Jones beckoning to her. Bree obediently came to him, standing at his side. Then the water hit them and she staggered a bit but remained on her feet. She looked up at her captain, admiring how he never even flinched.

Bree looked out into the water, seeing the usual. Then she saw the shadow of a ship steadily emerge in front of them. She angled her gaze upwards, but could only see the bottom side of the ship. She couldn't make out which ship she was. But she was fast!

But the _Dutchman_ was faster.

In a short while, the _Dutchman _was right behind the ship, following like a shadow. Bree knew what would happen next. They would follow for a while and then surface, surprising their prey and blasting them to matchwood.

Bree felt anticipation rise in her. Another good battle. And hopefully, this time there wouldn't be any trunks with dresses inside.

Bree steadied herself for the ascent. As the _Dutchman_ shot up from the surface, she shook water from her eyes and looked to the starboard side.

The _Pearl_!

Bree gaped in astonishment. Then she recovered her wits and instantly ran to the railing, calling out, "Jack! Jack Sparrow!"

Jones heard her and motioned to Maccus, who grabbed her by the collar, but Bree continued to shout out to Jack.

Will and Elizabeth saw Bree. Both looked at her, then at each other, and then at Jack. Jack looked a little uncomfortable.

But Will wasn't going to accuse Jack now. Bree was a captive!

Elizabeth, just as surprised as Will, was trying to speak to Bree, "Bree! Are you all right?"

Bree tried to call back but Maccus hit her across the face with his axe haft. Elizabeth gave a little cry of outrage at this, and turned to Will, who bravely called out, "Jones! Let the girl go at once!"

Bree gave a little shout and suddenly began calling out, "Bootstrap! Mate, come on deck! It's William!"

Will's heart stopped, and then soared when he heard Bree's words. Elizabeth held onto his arm, asking, "Can't we do something?"

Bootstrap stood beside his young friend, and Bree pointed. Bootstrap saw his son and smiled, all the love of a father in that smile. Bree laughed out loud, but was once again silenced by Maccus.

Elizabeth turned to Jack, who had been trying to sneak back to his cabin, "You said Bree was in Tortuga!"

Jack didn't flounder for a second, "Well, she was. I mean, if she was daft enough to go back out to sea with Jones lookin' for her, that's her own fault."

Elizabeth was about to say something when she heard Bree calling out, "Careful, mates! But don't fear any trouble from the Kraken!" Another blow from Maccus. Bree had a black eye by now. But she was giving out as much helpful information as she could. Bootstrap was calling out things to his son, and Jones was stomping over to both rebellious crewmembers.

Elizabeth watched in horror as Jones grabbed Bree around the waist and began crushing her, causing her to go limp and stop talking. He then grabbed Bootstrap by the neck as well, hauling him back to the mast. He then released Bree, pushing her towards the bosun, "When we're through, this rat's back at the gratings!"

Bree kicked Jimmylegs in the shins and called out, "The Kraken's dead, mates! Tell Jack not to worry 'bout it huntin' 'im!"

Jack, meanwhile, had disappeared into his cabin. But he reappeared, carrying a familiar item. After his last visit to Tia Dalma, he had wisely taken along another jar of dirt. He caressed it fondly and then looked across at the _Dutchman_. He called out boldly, and even cheekily, to the dread captain, "Oi, there! Let the girl go an' I'll give ye this!"

Gibbs whispered to Will and Elizabeth, "I think Jack's finally cracked." "He's been cracked for years," Will whispered back. Of course Elizabeth, Will and the rest of the crew were having doubts about the precious item. They had seen the insanity of the jar of dirt. The importance of it had never quite sunk in for them, but Jack kept speaking, "In exchange for Miss Bree, I'll give ye this luverly jar o' dirt…containin' a surprise. Ye just have to guess the surprise. Guess."

Jones stared across at Jack, and called back scornfully, "Dirt?"

Jack laughed, and Will and Elizabeth, with Bree as well, now restrained by Greenbeard, were all getting slightly worried.

"No, ye ol' floppy faced fool!" Jack called out, and Bree saw Jones' tentacle beard beginning to curl with annoyance. Bree heard Cotton say rather loudly (or his parrot, rather) "Awk! Run aground!"

Jack continued with his nonsensical tirade, "This, my fine, slippery friend, is not only a jar o' dirt, but is the jar containin' your dearly beloved thump-thump."

Bree, Will and Elizabeth, along with the rest of the crew, now no longer questioned Jack's sanity. He was as canny as ever. But the ruse was a true gamble. Jack didn't have the heart. A huge gamble.

Jones had instantly bristled when he heard Jack's words. He growled, snarling across, "What do ye want, Sparrow? I don't believe ye, but what d'ye want?"

Jack grinned confidently, setting the jar down and calling back across, "Are yer ears clogged wi' mud? Oh, wait. D'ye have ears? Ah, well, no matter. I told ye that if ye let Miss Bree go I'll send the jar over in a basket. Then after we've sailed away ye can take the jar an' yer thump-thump. What're ye losin' if ye give Bree back?"

Jones paused, considering. If Jack truly did have his heart, he would send Bree back. But one, he didn't believe Sparrow, and two…he didn't want to lose Bree.

Clanker solved his problem. The cursed pirate had climbed the side of the ship and had Sparrow within range. He began whirling his ball and chain, faster and faster. He then let go, and the missile went whirling through the air.

Jack had the jar wrenched from his hands as the heavy weapon crashed through the _Pearl_'s rigging. And once again, Jack's lucky jar of dirt was smashed to pieces. And once again, the scattered dirt revealed…no thump-thump.

Jones growled, calling out, "Sparrow!" He sounded ready to kill someone.

Bree knew it was useless. Jones suspected that Jack knew where the heart was. It might have been possible to lie their way out, but…Bree couldn't, and _wouldn't_ lie to Jones.

"I know where the heart is."

Jones turned to Bree, his eyes wide. They hardened as he snarled, "An' I should believe what ye say, aye?"

Bree, without flinching, nodded, "Aye, because what have I to gain by lyin'?"

Without waiting for an answer, Bree said, "The East India Trading Company has yer heart. However, exactly where it is, I don't know."

Jack heard Bree's words. He didn't miss a beat.

"Aye, an' I'll give ye the name o' the man who has that blood-pumpin' treasure in exchange for the girl!"

Jones growled again, anger flaming in his cold blue eyes. How he hated Sparrow! That rogue had caused him nothing but trouble!

But Jones wasn't going to deal with Sparrow now. He had enough information. He couldn't trust Jack to give him correct names.

And the _Dutchman _began moving off almost silently. Of course the _Pearl _noticed, but they couldn't do anything about it.

Bree began calling out to her friends again, and Elizabeth, Will, Gibbs and the crew of the _Pearl _were trying to call back to her. Elizabeth was in tears, turning to Jack, "Aren't you going to _do _something?"

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Elizabeth turned away, watching as the _Dutchman_ went down into the waves, too quickly to do anything about it.

Bree was gone.

Marty leaned up over the side railing of the _Pearl_. "What do we do now?"

Jack was scooping up handfuls of dirt and dumping them into a bucket he had found. He winced as he cut his hand on a shard of glass, "Well, we can't follow 'em. Best just head on to find our friend formerly known as the man formerly known as Commodore Norrington."

But Will and Elizabeth had other ideas, "We're going after Bree."

Jack made a single mirthless laugh, "An' exactly how d'ye plan to do that, eh?"

Elizabeth looked to Will. He was silent, and Jack made the same laughing noise, "See? Now, if we find the heart, we can command Jones to let Bree go."

Elizabeth protested, "But it might be too late by then! What if someone stabs the heart before we get to it? Bree will die. And what if we can't get to the heart? I say we just go after her now! After all, now that Jones knows where his heart is, we know where he'll be going. The East India Trading Company's home port!"

Without waiting for an answer from Jack, Will turned, "Right." He looked at the rest of the crew, who all went about their business without having to be asked. They were going back for Bree.

The _Dutchman_ wouldn't stay down forever.

And as Jack looked down at his compass, he knew it didn't lie.

"We have our heading."


	13. The Fiddle

Chapter XIII

The Fiddle

Bree was sitting on the railing, her arms folded over her chest and her face sullen. Her back didn't sting as much anymore. She had been flogged so many times that her skin had grown tough and leathery. She had managed to keep the blood off of her shirt, as she was tired of wearing a bloodstained garment all the time.

Bootstrap came to sit beside her, "Thanks, mate. It did me heart good to see William again."

This warmed Bree somewhat. She smiled, "He's a brave man, Bootstrap. Good man, good man. Like Jack."

Bootstrap chuckled, "Ah, ol' Sparrow. I couldn't force meself to believe that Jones had finally got 'im. But I hardly bared to doubt it."

Bree glanced over at the captain. "He seems awful distant. I wish…I wish I hadn't told 'im where the heart was, but 'e might've killed Jack an' the others!"

Bootstrap shrugged, "Well, 'e still doesn't know who has the heart. He's just guessing where to start lookin'."

Bree sighed, slumping against the railing. She looked over at Jones. He was scanning the horizon, looking through his glass. Bree whispered to Bootstrap, "He can't set foot on land for near of a decade. How does 'e expect to find the heart?"

Bootstrap shrugged, "Send in 'is crew."

Bree made a sound that sounded very much like a pouty dog, "Oh."

Bree stood at the railing again with Bootstrap. The two cursed pirates weren't chosen to go in with the shore party. They couldn't be trusted to stay with the others.

Maccus was leading the party, as always. He stood at the railing as Jones gave him whispered orders. Maccus nodded and leaped over the side to land in the water, where he promptly sank and began the underwater march to shore.

Bree could see the group through the clear water, even if they were a little distorted. Twins, Oldhaddy, Wheelback, Palifico, Koleniko, Quittance, Jimmylegs, Hadras, Clanker and Ratlin. The others had stayed on board to watch the _Dutchman_.

Bree stepped away from the rail, turning to be confronted by Jones' icy stare.

He growled at her, "Ye'd best have been tellin' the truth, Miss Bree."

Bree sniffed, slightly offended that he would think she would lie, "D'ye think I really care if ye find yer heart or not? I hope someone trips whilst carryin' it an' a thorn pierces it!" She said this with fierce sincerity.

But it wasn't sincere.

Nonetheless, Jones felt hurt by this remark, even though he didn't understand why. He knew she hated him. And he didn't care. At least, he didn't admit that he did.

Bree turned her back on him, looking back at the distant shore. She could see the small forms of the shore party emerging from the water, like so many wicked beasts of the sea. Which is what they were.

The young girl sighed, leaning her elbows on the railing and placing her chin in her hands, her eyes distant. Bootstrap stood beside her, looking out as well. He knew she was slightly distressed. He placed a hand on her shoulder and slowly began to stroke her back in a comforting way. It was an innocent, fatherly gesture.

But Jones didn't like it. He stifled something that was eating away at him. Was it anger? Annoyance? _Envy?_

Jones did feel a pang of envy. He almost coveted the closeness Bootstrap and Bree had. But why? Why should he want that relationship with Bree? She was a little bilge rat, a trouble maker and a slacker. No, not a slacker. She worked hard. She was an upstart, a rebel. And yet…why did Jones find that so…captivating? Her eyes, when they shone with defiance, were so clear, so bright, it took Jones' breath away. Even though it angered him when she rebelled, he admired it. The courage it took. He knew Bree was afraid of him. Everyone was afraid of him. But Bree was no coward. It took courage to stand up to someone she feared.

Jones stood watching as Bree looked up at Bootstrap, smiling. Her eyes showed affection for her shipmate. They were true friends, closer than Jones could really imagine.

Why was he jealous?

Bree sat at the railing, still watching for the other's return. She was nervous. If the heart hadn't been found, Jones would think she had lied, but if it had been found, that was bad news for Jack and the others. Bree rubbed at her brand, grimacing slightly.

Jones stood watch as well, except he had his glass. Bree didn't understand why he used it. He had looked straight into her eyes that one day.

Was it because he and the young girl were connected?

Bree shook off this thought. No, it was because he had very good eyesight. That was all. She pressed a hand to the pouch in her jerkin. Miraculously, it hadn't been found when Jones had tended her wound. _A good omen, I hope,_ Bree had thought.

Jones concentrated on the shore, still straining for a glimpse of his crew. He was nervous. He bit his lip tensely, trying to hold his glass straight. He glanced over at Bree. She looked as nervous as him. Had she been lying?

_No, Bree wouldn't lie to me._

Jones shook this thought from his head. It was comforting, but untrue. It almost sounded…affectionate. No! Even if the heart _was _here, Bree would get a good beating…and this time, Jones would hold the whip.

_I have to remember that I hate her!_

Bree leaned over to whisper something in Bootstrap's ear, "What if they find the heart, mate? What'll Jones do?"

Bootstrap shrugged, whispering back, "Don't know, mate. Can't be sure. I wouldn't think he'd want it back. It just brings back the pain."

Bree felt her mouth grow dry at this. Bring back the pain? The pain of love?

For some reason Bree felt angry whenever she thought of Jones' past. She didn't know why. But then, most of her emotions regarding Jones confused her. She wasn't even sure she hated him anymore! _Yes! I do hate him!_ It still sounded hollow.

Bootstrap saw the distress in Bree's eyes. He felt concerned for her, taking her hand in his, "Bree…matey, what's wrong? Ye don't look at all well!"

Bree hadn't realized her emotions were showing. Or that they were that strong. She felt her forehead. It was burning and beading with sweat.

When Jones saw Bootstrap take Bree's hand it sent another flame of burning envy shooting up his chest. Why were he and the young girl so close? Did…did Bootstrap love Bree? No…no, that was ridiculous. He was too old for Bree.

But…Jones was over three centuries old, and he…

_No! _That was even _more _ridiculous! Bootstrap always had the look of a father when he was affectionate to Bree. Bree must feel the same way, going to Bootstrap like a daughter to a father.

Jones hoped that with all his emotional energy.

Jimmylegs splashed through the surf, kicking up spray angrily. He wasn't looking forward to the return to the _Dutchman_. The search had proved fruitless. No heart. They had searched the place as well as possible, killing all who got in their way. Of course they used stealth, unable to simply waltz in and ask for the heart like it was a piece of candy. As if they would do that even if they _could!_

Clanker wiped his slimy brow with a clumsy paw, "Well, what're we to do? Cap'n'll have a fit."

Jimmylegs cuffed Clanker hard with his axe haft as he snarled, "We don't do anythin'! Cap'n Jones'll think o' somethin'. He'll find 'is heart. I know 'e will. No one can stand against 'im."

Twins was chewing on a cracked mollusk with one mouth while the other voiced his opinion, "Well, what d'yer think Cap'n'll do with 'is heart? I allus thought 'e buried it to forget everythin'."

Jimmylegs sighed as Palifico took over, "He _did_. But d'yer think 'e'll sit around an' wait fer Sparrow to steal it an' kill 'im? Idjit."

Clanker spoke again, "I think it ain't too smart. 'E can feel more when 'e's got the heart. We might wanna throw Miss Bree overboard then!" He sniggered lewdly.

Jimmylegs looked at Clanker strangely, saying, "Cap'n hates that li'l bottom feeder."

Clanker didn't look convinced, and Koleniko stood to the side, contributing to the argument, "Don't know, mate. Ye seen how 'e looks when 'e…" He stopped. He pointed toward the _Dutchman_. "Best not speak of it no more, mates. Cap'n'll hear us."

The others nodded, knowing he was right. Jones could hear everything. And he wouldn't be happy about this conversation.

Bree leaned down and hauled Koleniko over the side, wincing as some of his prickles stuck into her shoulder. She and Ogilvey helped the rest of the crew into the ship and then stood back, waiting to hear what Jimmylegs had to say. Jones looked anxious, but Bree, who now seemed able to sense his feelings, could tell that he was already guessing the worst.

Jimmylegs stepped up, still nervous about how his captain would react. He shrugged slightly and said, "No luck, sir. An' I don't think it ever _was _there. Miss Bree…she ain't tellin' the truth."

Jones' shoulders slumped. His reaction was a bit delayed. Then he raised his head, his eyes going to Bree. Bree withered under his fierce stare. She opened her mouth as if to defend herself, but her voice deserted her.

Jones came striding across the deck to Bree. For some reason, it seemed to take him hours to simply reach her. The sound of his peg leg hitting the deck was like the sound of a hammer nailing in a crucifix spike, only the beginning of her misery and, most likely, death sentence.

Bree wasn't at all surprised when her neck was gripped in the vice-like claw. Jones angled the girl's head so she was forced to stare into his wild eyes. They looked like rain swept pebbles, hard and cold, or like chips of ice, even colder.

Jones' voice was strained with a mixture of anger and distress, "Ye lied to me, girl. Yon East India Trading Company doesn't have the heart!"

Bree couldn't breath, therefore she couldn't talk. She opened her mouth, making a pitiful attempt to speak. She began clawing at her throat, leaving white marks on Jones' claw, but he simply clenched tighter. Bree felt her throat closing, squeezed tight until she couldn't breath at all. Her face went purple, and she went limp, her limbs quivering as blood stopped flowing.

Jones then dropped Bree, only to haul her up by the collar of her jerkin. He went to Ratlin and ripped a chain from his back. Bree could only see in foggy shapes now, but she felt herself being tied to the gratings once again and her shirt was ripped from her back. Only now, it was Jones who was about to flog her. And not with a normal whip, either. But with a length of chain.

The first blow fell. Bree had never known such agony. Jones was immensely strong, and the chain bit so deep into her flesh that he had to pull hard to remove it from the muscle of her back. This was the first time Bree had ever cried out while being flogged. Tears spurted from her eyes as the blood seeped over her back. Bree tried to brace herself for the next blow, but when it came, she cried out again, going limp, her hand bonds the only thing keeping her up.

After three blows, Bree thought she was going to die. The pain was so intense that she was sure her heart would erupt. She _wanted _to die. Every time the chain dug into her flesh the pain scorched through her like a red hot brand, and every time it was pulled slowly from her muscles she was sure her spine had been severed.

Jones had tears in his eyes as he flogged Bree. Every time she cried out, it caused him mixed emotions. She was suffering. She was in unimaginable pain. Good! She had caused him trouble! Brought back painful memories! Challenged his authority! He hated her!

But it tore through him, each pitiful wail. He was hurting her. He steeled himself, bringing the chain down again.

Jones gritted his teeth after the fourth blow. Bree's back resembled raw, ground up meat. Jones growled out hoarsely, "It's a full dozen for ye, whelp!"

The chain came down the fifth time. Bree cried out again, but not as loud. She was slipping away.

Sixth time. She still cried out, sure she was going to die.

Seventh time. She simply sank down until her arms were the only thing holding her up, her vision exploding into colored stars and her body so afire with pain it hurt to breath.

Eighth time. That was all she remembered. She fainted, beaten into senselessness.

But Jones didn't stop. He finished the full dozen, even exceeding that number by four. He at last stopped, gripping the chain so tight that it had formed a wheal on his palm. He stood there, head bowed, shoulders shaking. The crew stood watching. They had never seen their captain this angry before. And never had they seen such cruel punishment. Bree was covered in blood, and no skin remained on her back. And barely any muscle remained.

Jones snarled, "Get her down below!"

Bootstrap was the first to hurry forward. He actually had blood running from his lip from biting it so hard. He untied Bree, kneeling down beside her. His eyes were misty as he tried to wake her. No one so young should ever have to go through something so horrible! He examined her back. Shards of metal were embedded in her skin. Being undead, Bree's back would heal quickly and the skin would grow back, but she would still have scars.

Jones watched as Bootstrap and another crewmember picked Bree up by her arms and legs, carrying her down to the hold. He steadied himself at the rail, shutting his eyes. Bree's scream still echoed through his mind. Why had he reacted like that? Why had he been so cruel? _Because I hate 'er! _he reminded himself.

_And she lied to me._ She had hurt him.

_She lied to me…to save Jack Sparrow!_

Bree woke, her back afire with pain. She lay on her stomach, and tried to make sense of what was happening. Suddenly, a sharp jarring stab of pain deepened in her back and she made a grunting noise. She heard Bootstrap say, "Hold fast, mate. I'm getting' out all these chain shards."

Bree bit down on her fist as he worked, flinching each time he pulled out the metal shards. She could hear Jones' organ, playing the same song as ever. The noise was magnified in her sore head, and each note pounded through her temples, causing her more pain. She tried to remember…pain…physical pain.

Emotional pain, too. Why had Jones been so…so cruel? It hurt her. _C'mon, Bree, ye know he hates the very air ye breath! Why should it surprise ye?_

Bootstrap finished taking out the chain links. He laid a seawater soaked rag over Bree's back, and though it stung, Bree could feel it cleansing and healing her wounds. Bootstrap stroked her shoulder and said, "Don't worry, mate. Ye'll heal faster than ye think."

Too tired to thank him, Bree fell back to sleep, Jones' song serving as a lullaby to her.

Bootstrap was right. When Bree woke, she angled her head around to look at her back. The long, jagged grooves had healed somewhat, only leaving long scars. They were ugly and crusted with blood, but Bree wasn't in as much pain. She could move without being truly stiff. _I suppose that's one good thing about bein' undead._ she thought.

Bree saw the crew all sitting together in a group. She swung down from her hammock, pulling on her shirt and jerkin. She went and took her place between Angler and Ratlin. Both crewmates looked at her, acknowledging her. They also looked impressed.

Clanker tipped his hat mockingly to Bree, "Well, little missy, ye woke at last!"

Bree didn't answer the jibe, able to read the respect in Clanker's eyes.

Bree tuned out as the others began another conversation. She only became interested when the discussion turned to music. Angler claimed that he had been a very good musician before he had been pressed into the crew. He stood, going to a satchel he kept in the corner.

Bree watched as Angler pulled out a small fiddle, looking at it a bit fondly, "Forgot how to play it, mates, but it sure did make pretty music!"

Bree, surprising all, stood, going to Angler and gently taking the instrument from him. Adjusting it to her chin and tuning up the wooden pegs, Bree set the bow to the strings. Then, the rod started moving up and down as she began playing a lively jig.

All the pirates looked at her, amazed. She had a wonderful skill with the fiddle! One or two of the grim characters actually started tapping their feet in time with the wild tune. Bree's eyes closed as she played, her style and form flawless as she continued with the tune.

Soon, the entire crew was clapping along to the tune, a few hoots and cheers coming from them as Bree played on. Bootstrap stood watching his young friend, pride shining from his eyes. Bree was truly a wild, untamable spirit! It was impossible to convert her to the ways of the _Dutchman_, and Jones would never break her!

Suddenly, the clapping and stomping stopped. Bree's fiddling dwindled.

Footsteps.

Jones entered the hold, his face unreadable, his tentacles moving almost lazily as he spoke in a calm voice, "What's this?" His eyes flicked over the crew.

Bree almost dropped the fiddle. The bow actually slid from her hands but her other hand gripped the neck of the fiddle so tight she thought she might break it. Her mouth was frozen open. Her back began to ache again.

Jones waited for someone to answer. But when no one volunteered, he looked to Bree. He focused on the fiddle, realizing that the skilled jig he had heard was her doing.

Striding up to Bree, he wrenched the fiddle from her hands, examining it. He then looked back at Bree, speaking in a low, dangerous voice, "I don't allow music or singin' on my ship."

Bree made a few sorry attempts to speak. But she at last gutted up her courage and said, "Don't ye…don't ye play an instrument yerself?"

Jones' tentacles turned purple, clenching and writhing. Bree stepped back, knowing she had said the wrong thing. She didn't want to be flogged by him again.

Jones growled, his teeth bared in a snarl. He thrust the fiddle back into Bree's hands, growling at the others, "'Tis no excuse for idlin', lads!"

When Jones had returned to the deck, probably to his cabin, Bree turned to her mates, shrugging. Jimmylegs, normally one to jeer at Bree, called out, "Play somethin' else, mate!"

Bree obliged, playing an old, well-known pirate chantey. Ratlin and Penrod started drumming on the floor, and Twins started singing a duet of the song. Clanker started singing along as well, and then Maccus joined in. Soon, the whole crew of the _Flying Dutchman_ was singing along to Bree's fiddle. Bree grinned as she played. Jones couldn't do anything about it.

Jones could hear the fiddle's lively music as Bree played. Her skill was flawless. Being a gifted musician, Jones felt impressed. Of course, Bree had an array of talents and qualities and…no! He couldn't start thinking like that again!

Bree was strong. He had been impressed to find her standing. All the hatred that had burst out when he flogged her…he didn't know where it was now.

After a while, Jones couldn't stand it anymore. He had to go down and see what all was happening. He began walking towards the hold again. The music and singing was so loud that his footsteps were disguised. Bree always recognized his approach, but now it was dulled by the loud singing. He blended into the background, in a corner. He watched as Bree continued to play.

Bree suddenly stopped playing, but the singing went on as she held out the fiddle. Bootstrap stood up, taking the instrument from her. Bree leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and he smiled, nodding. Jones watched, fascinated, as Bootstrap began to play the fiddle. He was a gifted musician as well. Jones didn't know Bill Turner could play any instrument.

Bree went to the center of the group once more, and suddenly, to Jones' reluctant and surprised delight, she began to dance. Jones lost his breath. Her movements were so graceful, so nimble and quick! Her slim, lithe body moved with skill and agility. She twirled and swung her arms in the air, thoroughly losing herself in the moment. She was smiling, and the others were clapping and calling out encouragement, still singing along.

Jones pressed his tongue to the top of his mouth. It was dry. Bree looked so…so free, so wild, so…_irresistible_. No! No such thoughts. Hadn't he just shown everyone how he hated her? She wasn't his type!

But wasn't Bree a true pirate? A wild one, someone even Davy Jones couldn't control. Jones thought back to his love of long ago. She wasn't anything like Bree. She was cold, harsh and cruel, and she broke Davy's heart. But Bree…she might be rebellious and defiant towards him, but she was warm and inviting towards friends, had a hearty laugh and a beautiful smile. She was so different. She wasn't a lady. She was a female pirate. A warrior of the seas.

Bree was still cruel, even if she didn't mean to be. Did she know what she had done to Jones? Not even Jones knew what she had done to him. The hole in his chest where his heart should have been ached whenever he saw her.

The wheal from the chain was still on Jones' palm. He looked down at it, feeling wrath build in him. Self-loathing twisted a complicated knot in his chest. Why had he been so cruel? He had tried to make himself hate Bree. But he couldn't.

Davy Jones might have hated Bree when he first met her. But combined with the memories and the pain she brought back…she brought relief.

Feelings and memories are cruel. Even to the heartless.


	14. Wrigglin' out of a Debt

Chapter XIV

Wrigglin' out of a Debt

Bree stretched, yawning expansively. It had been a good day…well, a good day for the lifestyle Bree was living. Jimmylegs had been more lenient with her and the crew hadn't really bothered to mock her. Now, every night, they wanted her to entertain them with either a song, a musical piece, or a dance. Angler had given the fiddle to Bree, and she kept it in a satchel under her hammock.

Bree was settling in for a good sleep when Clanker tapped her on the shoulder. Bree sat up, growling irritably, "What now?"

Clanker cuffed her roughly, "Cap'n wants ye in 'is cabin."

Bree was confused again, "Is that all 'e said?"

Clanker snorted, "No, 'e said look lively."

Bree mumbled something and rolled out of her hammock, pulling on her jerkin. She buckled on her sword belt, as always, and climbed groggily up the stairs. She stumbled out onto the deck, feeling a cold wind hit her. She shivered, rubbing her arms in an attempt to keep warm. She covered a yawn and made her way to the cabin, pushing open the doors. She was trying to look relaxed and unafraid, but she couldn't keep her hands from shaking. What did he want now? Another flogging?

Jones was fingering the keys of his organ when Bree entered. He heard her light footsteps and stood, turning to face her. He looked her over. Then he spoke, "Ye lied, Miss Bree. I'm somewhat disappointed."

Bree felt these words stab deep. She turned defensive, "Did I ever say it was where ye looked? I jist said the East India Trading Company had it! Ye were the one who assumed it was there! It might be on one o' the ships!"

Jones almost deflated when she said this. Perhaps the eagerness to retrieve his heart had clouded his judgment and reason. She had a point.

Jones snarled, "What fool would risk takin' it to sea?"

Bree's response brought a smile to her own lips, "Jack would. An' there are souls as daft as he."

That smile…it made Jones' throat tighten. He sensed…tenderness and affection.

Now _this _really would cause him sleepless nights! Bootstrap was too old for Bree to love in a romantic way. But was Jack? He was younger, only about twenty years older than Bree. That wasn't too old. Jones felt doubt and a type of fear creep into the corners of his subconscious. Bree had been with Jack for quite a while on the _Pearl_.

Had anything happened between them? Jones knew that, being a pirate, Jack was a womanizer. But no…Bree didn't seem like someone who would act like a common Tortuga wench. Unless she and Jack felt the same affection for one another.

Bree was still looking at Jones. He snapped out of his gloomy thoughts and spoke, "Well, then. D'ye have any inklin' o' where it actually is?"

Bree spread her hands, "No, sir. The sea is a large place. O' course, ye control it. Ye find it." She turned to leave.

Jones felt annoyed as she walked to the door without being dismissed. He moved quickly, grabbing the back of her neck in his claw and whirling her around. He hissed into her face without really thinking, "Ye love Sparrow, don't ye?"

Bree was totally unprepared for the question. She opened her mouth to speak, not sure what Jones meant. Did he mean love like a friend? Or something deeper? And why should he care?

"What gave ye that idea?" she answered, not able to hear the wavering tone of her own voice.

Jones felt his heart sink at that tone. Was she hiding it? "Ye seem eager to protect him."

Bree tried to wriggle free but failed. This was ridiculous. She didn't feel anything special for Jack. And she wasn't sure why it would annoy Jones so much if she did.

Of course, the same thoughts were going through Jones' mind. Why should he care? He released Bree, who stood back, nursing her neck. Jones waved his claw absently, "Dismissed."

Bree hurried from the room, still unsure and somewhat unnerved. Yet a small, inner voice was singing out in triumph. _Was he envious?_

Jones, of course, settled down the only way he could; playing music.

Bree sat on deck, now wide awake. She looked up at the stars, partly covered by clouds. The music served as a soothing, calming blanket, slowing Bree's heart. She leaned her head back against the railing, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She was going mad. She knew it. She had seen a strange expression on Jones' face when she mentioned Jack. Anger? Bitterness? Hatred?

Bree felt the music from the organ slowly caressing her tired mind. Did Jones know how beautifully he played? If Bree wasn't so afraid of him, she would tell him. But her back still ached from the brutal flogging she had received. And her heart was burdened by the fact that he absolutely hated her. Why this hurt her, she didn't know. She had been realizing it slowly, though.

She didn't hate him.

It was dawn. Bree opened her eyes, tilting her head back.

Jones stood over her, looking down at her. Bree gave a short cry of alarm and scooted backwards, only to knock her head on the railing. She sat there, rubbing her skull and not daring to look up at her captain. She didn't realize that she had fallen asleep. How long had Jones been standing there?

Jones grabbed Bree by the shoulder and hauled her up. Bree was a little surprised at the gentleness of his claw. He wasn't clamping down as hard on her.

Bree looked about. No one else was on deck. It must have been too early. She looked to Jones, a little apprehensive.

Jones reached out and clamped his claw down on the hilt of her sword. He slowly drew it out of the scabbard, moving it carefully so as not to hit Bree's head with the blade. He examined the sword, twirling and brandishing skillfully. Then he leaned on the hilt, saying in a conversational tone, "This is a good sword."

Bree nibbled at a scab on her lip, nodding. Then she summoned up courage to speak, "It was…it was my father's."

Jones tossed the sword up, catching it deftly by the blade and offering it to Bree like a surrendering captain. Bree didn't exactly catch this small gesture, only thinking he was giving it back. And perhaps Jones didn't realize why he made this gesture either. He pretended to ignore it.

Bree watched as Jones drew his own broadsword from the scabbard hanging at his hip. It was longer than Bree's, and the blade was a bit wider. After Bree had sheathed her own sword, Jones tossed his to her.

Bree caught the sword by the hilt, surprised at its weight. _'E must be very strong to handle a sword like this!_ She remembered their swordfight and remembered the strength behind his blows. Very strong indeed.

Bree tested the blade and did a few fancy tricks herself. Jones bit back a smile. He knew that his sword was heavy, and he was impressed by Bree's steady grip and movement. When he saw she was tiring a bit, he took the sword from her.

Bree discreetly rubbed her forearm. She had never seen a sword like his before. The crosstrees had been covered in barnacles and the grip wasn't as good.

Jones waited for Bree to look up again. Then he placed the point of his sword under her chin, "Care to try yer skill, missy?"

Bree couldn't help but smile. Was he challenging her to a duel? She drew her sword again, changing hands and then brandishing it, "I've grown stronger since the last time I fought ye, Cap'n."

Jones grinned at her, answering, "Ye don't seem frightened, much. Forgotten those welts already?" At saying this he felt a slight twinge.

Bree's smile vanished, but she still answered him, "Sometimes the only way to conquer yer fears is to stand up to them." And then, without realizing why, she said, "Much as ye failed to do…centuries ago." But the minute the words left her mouth, she clapped a hand to her lips, her eyes wide.

Jones' eyes reflected hurt. But did she know? He had failed again. He had failed the moment he had taken up the length of chain. He had failed to recognize his feelings. And he was still failing. And refused to confront it.

Jones pressed his blade harder to Bree's neck from these thoughts. His eyes weren't focusing in on what was happening, and only when Bree made a slight sound did he look back at her. He sucked in his breath. Blood trickled down her neck, his sword pricking her. He withdrew the blade, mumbling an apology.

Bree figured that the best way to solve all this was…to fight.

The girl stepped away and got into a fighting position, blade out, "Shall we begin?"

Bootstrap woke, looking over at Bree's hammock. The girl wasn't there. He wasn't surprised. She would often rise earlier than the others. But he could hear sounds above him. Metal on metal.

The old sailor rose, making his way on deck. He was halfway out of the hold when he saw the cause of the noise.

Bree and Davy Jones were broadsword fighting.

Bootstrap watched, fascinated. Both had fantastic skill with the blade, and neither one could touch the other. Bree's form was perfect, her strength never failing. Jones was stronger than Bree and forced her back quite a bit, but Bree was quicker and able to dart around him, attacking from the rear only to be blocked.

Bootstrap could instantly tell that this wasn't a fight to the death. Both fighters, even though their faces were screwed up in concentration, looked calm and unafraid. Bootstrap couldn't hide his smile.

They were playing.

Some might think that Jones and Bree would have been quite friendly after their little fencing session. Such was not the case.

Bree came storming down to the hold, her face livid with rage. Her sword was still clenched in her hand and her knuckles were white from gripping so hard.

Bootstrap instantly tensed when he saw Bree's eyes. They were raging and flaming. He stood, going to his friend, "What happened?"

Bree growled something and went to the slumbering Oldhaddy, wrenching a rum bottle from his limp claws. She took a long swig, and Bootstrap had to wait a while for her to speak. Bree wiped her mouth, baring her teeth and hissing, "He tried to trick me! He asked if I was through with tryin' to escape! I told 'im no an' he gave me this!" She revealed a long, jagged cut on her arm. Bootstrap winced, tearing a strip of cloth from his cloak and tying the girl's arm. As he did this, he asked quietly, "Well…_are _ye through tryin' to escape, mate?"

Bree looked up at him, her eyes hard, "Didn't I just say I said no? Never!"

Bootstrap tilted his head, "Ye sure? I've found ye're somewhat growin' accustomed to life here."

Bree growled, wrenching her arm away angrily. She stormed off to her hammock, grumbling and muttering all sorts of oaths. Bootstrap shrugged, letting her fume silently.

Bree pulled the blanket over her head, tears of hot indignation welling in her eyes. What was happening to her? Bootstrap had spoken the truth! She was getting used to life on this floating prison! If she didn't get away from it soon…she wouldn't want to.

_Help me, Jack!_

Over the two days, Jones and Bree avoided one another. Bree suspected Jones was angry at her for her defiance. As always.

But Jones had been slightly hurt by Bree's ardent claim that she would not rest until she escaped. But hadn't he talked himself through this before?

_She doesn't like ye. She hates ye._

Jones had at last given up on trying to hate Bree. But he refused to believe that he felt anything for her.

But that jealousy was still there. Bree and Sparrow…if Jones knew Sparrow, the wily pirate would have tried to charm Bree. It was in his nature. And what if Bree had fallen under his spell? This caused Jones to wriggle inwardly with black paranoia. But, still determined, he ignored it all, however hard it was.

But they say that it's unhealthy to keep emotions bottled up.

Soon, both Bree and Davy Jones would reach the overflowing point.

"Sail ho!"

Bree heard the words clearly. She scrambled up, knocking over the game of dice as she made a dash for the stairs, tearing up them to emerge on the deck. She leaned over the railing, hanging onto one of the ropes, trying to catch sight of the ship.

And there it was.

A ship with black sails.

_The Pearl!_

Bree could have laughed out loud, but she only gave a small, satisfied smile. Good ole Jack! _Comin' in the nick o' time!_

Bree looked over and saw Jones looking through his glass at the ship. She heard him snarl with anger, and felt a smug grin creep across her face. As if sensing it, Jones turned to look at her, his eyes hard. Bree tried to look away as if everything was normal, but the captain stumped over to her, grabbing her by the back of the neck. He hissed into her ear, "Don't git any ideas, whelp!"

Bree didn't answer, and when she was released, she said, "Of course not, _sir._"

Now was the time. Escape, or be bound to the ship forever. Bound by her feelings.

Jones, meanwhile, was writhing with rage. Bree was very pleased. He could see it just by that smile on her lips. _Jack was coming to rescue her._

Jones muttered darkly under his breath, "Ye can't have her, Sparrow."

Will gave out a triumphant call, "There she is! It's the _Dutchman_!"

Gibbs looked out across the waves at the ghost ship, a broad smile on his face, "By the saints, we've caught 'er! We'll come up alongside 'er in no time!"

Cotton's parrot made a contribution, "Awk! Load the rum!"

Jack was immediately on deck, "_No! _None o' that, Mister Cotton! We'll just swing by an' pick up Miss Bree. We can easily outdistance the _Dutchman_."

Elizabeth was looking anxious, "Do you think there will be a fight?"

Jack looked back at her, "Most likely, luv."

Will didn't look away from the ghost ship, "A friend is worth it."

Pintel and Ragetti stood near the prow, looking at the _Dutchman_. Ragetti had removed his wooden eye, flicked a speck of dust from the back, and popped it back in, adjusting it and looking at the ghost ship. He looked to his friend, "Ye think Jack's got a plan to save Miss Bree?"

Pintel sniffed, answering as one would to a simpleton, "O' course Cap'n's got a plan! An' Miss Bree'll come outta this fine! She's smart an' tough."

Both pirates watched the _Dutchman_ getting closer. Both dreaded the confrontation that would soon come.

Bree heard the flutter of wings behind her. She turned, and her heart leaped. A blue parrot was perched on the railing, tilting its head at her and squawking, "Awk! Douse the lamps! Douse the lamps!"

Bree had learned the parrot's language and nodded, smiling in thanks. The parrot did an awkward hopskip and flew off, back to the _Pearl_.

Jack smiled as Cotton's parrot returned to its master's shoulder. The wily captain turned to Will, "See? I told ye he could throw his voice. Now Miss Bree'll know how to signal us when she's ready. All we have to do is swing by as fast as we can an' pick 'er up. We can outrun the _Dutchman_ an' we'll pass by safely, so long as we don't present that much of a target. We won't get too close, but close enough for Bree to reach us."

Will nodded resolutely, looking back towards the ghost ship. Elizabeth smiled, "You're always the clever one, Jack."

Jack grinned, "Thank ye, luv. Ye have to be in this business."

Bree waited, biding her time. The _Pearl _was getting closer now, and if she could wait until she got within swimming distance…there!

Bree sidled off to the railing, away from the others. She quietly drew her sword, letting the light catch it. She saw Jack standing at the rail of the _Pearl_. He saw her signal.

Bree banged the hilt of her sword into Maccus' head, stunning him. She then sheathed her sword, kicked out at the others and leaped over the rail. She fell awkwardly, but managed to land at an angle.

The girl hit the water hard, and it stunned her for a moment, but she managed to flounder to the surface. Suddenly, she remembered. The box!

Fumbling about in her shirt, Bree pulled out the small pouch. Bree drew back her arm and flung the pouch up over the railing of the _Dutchman_. Then she disappeared beneath the waves.

Jones had been concentrating on the _Pearl_ when Bree jumped overboard. Only when Palifico drew his attention to it did he realize what was happening.

Storming over to the railing, Jones opened his mouth to give an order, but something grazed the side of his face. It was a pouch, and it clattered to the deck. Jones limped over to it, bent and picked it up. He hooked it with his claw and undid the mouth with his hand, dumping out the contents. His eyes darkened with wrath and his tentacles curled and turned purple.

The music box!

Jones was then instantly at the side, looking down and along the length of the ship and bellowing out, "Git that whelp! I'll have the hide off 'er back an' use her bones to decorate me cabin!" His head was whirling in one massive emotion, blended together of several smaller feelings. _Bree, I'll kill ye!_

Bree held onto the barnacles growing on the bottom of the _Dutchman_. She would ride along with her until she was within reach of the _Pearl._

Bree laughed quietly at her scheme. She was right under the water, out of Jones' view. She could simply swim to the opposite side of the _Pearl_, shimmy up and they would zip right by, off to freedom!

Bree knew this was the right thing to do.

_Get out while ye can!_

Bree felt her heart beating faster as the _Pearl_ approached near enough at last. Bree let go of the barnacles, dove down and swam as fast as she could under and around the black-sailed ship. She surfaced, twisting her body around and treading water, "Oi! Jack Sparrow!"

Jack heard Bree's voice. He grinned, "See? I tol' ye she would do all the work!" He went to the side and tossed a rope down. Bree latched on and Pintel and Ragettie began hauling her up.

Bree landed awkwardly over the railing, and Elizabeth helped her stand, hugging her so fiercely that Bree thought she would crush her ribs, "Bree! We did it!"

Bree hugged Elizabeth back, tears sliding down her cheeks, "Thankee, mates!"

After a while, Elizabeth let go of Bree, who was immediately seized in Will's grip. He smiled down at her, "I'm glad we came in time, mate!" He let the young girl cry onto his shoulder, she was so overcome with joy at being free.

Jack tapped Will's shoulder, who released Bree. Jack smiled at Bree, still calm but happy to see her, "Welcome back aboard the _Black Pearl_, Miss Bree."

Bree threw her arms around Jack, hugging him so tight that Jack marveled at her strength, "Mate, I'd appreciate it if ye didn't break me spine like that."

Bree stepped back, quickly wiping away her tears and laughing as Jack spoke, "Well, mission accomplished, mates! Time to go!"

But the ship suddenly shuddered as the _Dutchman _fired.

Elizabeth looked at Jack, "I thought we were out of range!"

Jack didn't answer her but ran to the side. He made a small squealing sound and jumped to the side. Will went to the side and looked. He growled in frustration, "They've crippled us!"

Bree felt her marrow freeze. _No! I can't be caught again! Oh, please, no!_

Jones looked across at Sparrow, a satisfied smirk on his cruel face. He had nowhere to go.

Jones knew now what he was going to do. Let the _Pearl_ go on! She could sail to hell for all he cared! Jack was no concern of his anymore. He didn't have the heart, he knew that. He would have tried to bargain long ago. And now all Jones wanted was to get Bree back. He had half made up his mind to strip her back bare until only her bones were left! But another part of him simply wanted her back.

Jones called across to the captain of the _Pearl_, who was at the moment praying, "Sparrow! Give back the girl or I'll blow yer ship to matchwood!"

Jack jerked up, moving his hands in strange, jerky gestures. He motioned Bree to his side, who hadn't moved. She was staring straight across at Jones. She saw Jack and hurried over to him, "Any ideas, Cap'n?"

But the ship shuddered again as the _Dutchman _fired again, this time landing among the rigging and slicing through the tackle. Bree winced as some of it crashed to the deck. Jack had a pained expression on his face. He looked at Bree, and Bree understood. He was having a hard time deciding between her and his beloved _Pearl._

But Bree could relate, being a pirate. One's ship was one's life.

Jones called out again, "Sparrow! Answer or I'll fire!"

Bree lowered her head and nodded. Jack gnawed at his fraying sleeve, torn between his friend and his ship. But Bree answered selflessly, "I'll go."

Elizabeth put her hand on Bree's shoulder, "No you won't! We'll fight for you!"

Bree raised her hand for silence, and called across to Jones, "If ye promise to let the _Pearl_ and 'er crew go free, I'll come back."

Jones smiled triumphantly, nodding readily. But then his mood rapidly went downhill as he had to watch the tearful goodbyes.

Will, Elizabeth and the crew all said their individual goodbyes. Bree couldn't believe how rapidly this had all gone by. Only a few short minutes ago she had been rejoicing in the fact that she was free. Now, it was back to slavery. Back to Jones.

_Back to uncertain emotions._

Bree hung her head. She felt a small tear dripping down her cheek. She was too confused! Her only chance to escape her feelings…ruined.

Jack grasped Bree's hand, "Ye know I would…"

Bree held up her hand to stop him, "I won't have the _Pearl_ sunk a third time, mate. An' I want ye all safe. Just…just sail on, an' I hope ye find what ye're lookin' for."

Jack, for once in his life, looked as if he was close to looking like he was close to crying. He reached out and stroked Bree's cheek in a tender, fatherly way. He felt as if he had failed her. This wasn't like him to feel this way. Of course, Bree brought out hidden feelings in everyone.

Will and Elizabeth tried to talk Bree out of going back one last time, but she only answered, "What choice do I have? I'd rather sail in Hell than see ye all blown to bits."

Jack, once the others had moved away, went to Bree again and said quietly, "Ye would've made a good pirate captain, Bree." And with that, he bent and kissed her.

Bree had been kissed by Jack before, but he had been drunk and his wits were dulled. But now she didn't slap him. Aye, she was startled and surprised, but she didn't sense any lewd suggestions. It was a soft, short kiss. Jack was just saying goodbye. And everyone on the _Pearl _understood that.

It didn't look that way to Jones. All he saw was Jack lean down and kiss Bree's mouth.

And something exploded inside of him.

Bree was viciously ripped away from Jack and hauled backwards. She felt Jones' claw around her neck. Jack leaped back, "Bugger." He was startled by Jones' sudden appearance.

Bree scrabbled to get free, "I said I'd come back! Don't hurt 'im!"

This just maddened Jones all the more. She was doing all this to protect Jack! Bitter jealousy and writhing fury was making him livid. He wanted to blow the _Pearl _to pieces! But a bargain was a bargain.

Jack looked down at Bree, then up at Jones, who was glaring at him with unbearable hatred. Bree swallowed as well as she could and spoke in a level voice, "Goodbye, Captain Sparrow."

Jack didn't want to move, so he just nodded. Jones snarled something and then whirled the girl around. Bree was frog marched to the railing of the _Pearl _and disappeared onto the _Dutchman_.

The crew of the _Black Pearl_ watched as the _Flying Dutchman_ began to descend into the cold depths once again. Elizabeth was crying softly, clutching onto Will. Will looked just as troubled as her, and a hint of that emotion showed on Jack's face.

Jack turned to the others once the _Dutchman _had disappeared. He heaved a shuddering sigh, and then said in a low voice, "Alter course."


	15. A Song for the Captain

Chapter XV

A Song for the Captain

Bree sat beside Bootstrap at the railing of the _Dutchman,_ her back stinging in the air. Jones had gone rather light on her. Only four dozen. Not so bad.

Bootstrap looked at Bree. She looked troubled. And didn't she have a right to be so?

"Bree…I'm sorry."

Bree heaved a sigh, trying to hold back the tears, feeling like she had swallowed a large quantity of foul air. She scrubbed at her eyes in frustration, at last speaking her thoughts, "I can't do it, Bootstrap! I just can't! I don't…don't know what's wrong wi' me! I can't go on every day like this! I've been on this ship fer almost a year. I can't go for one hundred, only to become…become somethin' like ol' Wyvern!" She was referring to the former crewmember who was now part of the ship itself.

Bootstrap patted Bree's shoulder. He knew how she felt, "Maybe ye were meant to be on this ship, mate. Jones, believe it or not, actually believes in fate. An' in heaven. An'…an' in hell."

Bree laughed harshly, "We're in hell, Bootstrap. An' every time I see Jones, I see the devil."

Bootstrap bit back something he wanted to say.

_The devil is in pain because of ye._

And the devil was aching at this moment, more than ever before.

Jones sat in his cabin, head in claws as he tried to sort out his thoughts and feelings. He had never felt so…so _angry! _So bitter and frustrated! He couldn't get the image of Jack kissing Bree from his mind. It made him seethe with fury and poisonous envy. _Why does she have to be so…_

Jones thought back to the day he had stabbed his own heart out. Doing so was _supposed _to take the feelings away. _Supposed _to take the love away. _Supposed _to take the pain away. _Supposed_ to remove the memories of the love and then the betrayal. But simply removing his heart did only one thing; dulled it all until he was completely unfazed by all.

Until Bree came and upset the balance of his feelings. His usual cruel nature reared up, higher than usual as it fought to contain the other feelings that Bree had uncovered.

_I should know better than to start feelin' this way! _Jones tried explaining to himself again, even though he knew it was useless. _Jealousy…it hurts too much! Why does it have to be her? Why!_

He was going insane. Pangs of devastation were making his mind numb. He knew it now. He was crazed with thoughts for Bree. And he couldn't stop it.

But Bree loved Sparrow! Jones was certain of it. She had kissed him! Jones bit his lip as he remembered seeing their lips touch. Angst caused Jones to begin thinking of darker, more sadistic ways to deal with these feelings.

Why not kill them both? 

No…no, he couldn't, and _wouldn't _kill Bree. Besides, she was doomed to serve on this ship.

_Doomed._

Those had been Bree's very own words.

_She doesn't want to be on this ship with me._

Well, could he blame her? He had, after all, destroyed her ship, killed her mates and captain, and caused her to become an undead monster. Her back was raw from the many beatings, and he was sure she would never forgive him for flogging her with that chain. He growled softly. Why should he care anyway?

_Ye fell in love once before_, he told himself, _an' all I received was…was betrayal_. He remembered the feelings that had come from that betrayal. His Calypso…he had loved her so much. Enough to die for her. Enough to do anything for her! Why hadn't she seen that and returned the affection?

_Why couldn't Bree see?_ But _how _could she see? Jones wasn't being honest with her…or himself. But he kept lying to himself, no matter how unconvincing his reason was.

Bree sat down in the hold, slightly amused. The moment she had been pushed down the stairs after her beating, Maccus had thrust the satchel containing her fiddle at her.

Bree took the fiddle out and stroked the neck tenderly. Her only true link to humanity, when she thought about it. Bree looped the satchel straps around her shoulders temporarily to hold it and keep it from folding.

As Bree tuned the fiddle, she heard someone coming down the stairs. She could tell by the footsteps that it was Twins. He had three legs, so it was easy to identify the strange sound.

The two headed crewmember poked his heads down and called, "Oi, Bree! Cap'n wants ye in 'is cabin, sharpish!"

Bree felt her blood run cold. Jones hadn't spoken to her since her bold attempt. What would he say to her now? She dreaded what would happen. But she had no choice.

Not bothering to take her satchel off, Bree climbed up onto the deck, biting at her claw as she walked towards the captain's cabin. She turned and saw Bootstrap standing a little ways off. She gave him a worried look, and he nodded, trying to encourage her, even though he knew what Jones had to say to her would be less than pleasant.

Bree raised her fist, and then, after a few moments' hesitation, she knocked timidly on the barnacle crusted door.

"Enter!"

Bree felt her spine prickle at the sound of Jones' voice. Just from that one word, she could tell he was seething with anger. It sounded harsher and sharper.

Bree pushed open the door, creeping in. She positioned her satchel over her shoulders. Well, if Jones began to physically hurt her, she could fend him off with it.

Jones watched Bree like a hawk as she snuck into the room, staying to the shadows. Impatience and bottled rage were making Jones fidgety. He snarled out, "Come 'ere, whelp!"

Bree felt slightly hurt by his harsh tones, but came forward, slowly and uncertainly. Jones didn't have time for this. He went forward and grabbed Bree's arm, pulling her forward. Bree gasped, and Jones could see the fear in her face. Part of him was glad to see it, but the other kept crying out _She's afraid of me!_

Bree refused to meet Jones' eyes, and the captain noticed that she was trembling. He stepped back, speaking in a harsh voice, "I like to see bravery in a young one. Somethin' to be admired. But _your _courage is nothin' short o' foolery!"

Bree winced, and Jones continued, "Did ye think ye could escape that easily? I am Davy Jones! I am the _sea!_ I control yer fate! Even yer precious friend, Sparrow," here he spat the word out bitterly, "couldn't help ye! Give it up, girl! Ye're destined to one hundred years on this ship! An' git used to it!"

Bree turned her face away, too tired to try to recognize the emotions in her. But she now said the wrong thing.

"Jack is a good man. He can outdo ye! But I wouldn't let ye have the satisfaction o' takin' the _Pearl _from 'im! He's worked hard for that ship! He's a good man!"

Jones felt like he was going to burst from hatred and anger. _Jack, Jack, Jack!_ Was that all she had to say to him? He spoke before thinking, "I suppose ye would've sailed with him had ye escaped, aye?"

Bree nodded, wondering where this was all going.

Jones clenched his claw, growling, "I should 'ave killed ye when I took the _Goresail_!"

Bree sniffed, speaking, "Why don't ye kill me now? Ye've separated me from my friends! My life is nothin' to ye! Why don't ye kill me?" _Let it be over._

Jones actually yelled at her, "I don't want to!"

Bree stood, unsure. Jones was furious, his eyes blazing with wrath. He went forward and grabbed her around the neck with his claw again, and Bree didn't know if she had ever been gripped tighter before.

Jones had his face fractions from hers as he roared, "I won't tolerate any more o' this from ye, ye hear me! Yer soul belongs to _me! _D'ye hear that? _Me!_ Nobody else! _Especially not Sparrow!_"

Bree had her face sprayed with spittle as he ranted at her. Jones released her, and she fell hard, watching as he retreated to the back of the cabin. After she had recovered, Bree said in a thin voice, "I don't belong to Sparrow. An' I never did!"

Jones slammed his claw down on the keys of the organ, and Bree's ears nearly ruptured at the sound. Jones made a snarling noise, sounding very much like an angry beast. He roared back at the girl, his voice mixed with undisguised hurt, "Ye don't _want _to belong to me!"

Bree felt her voice desert her. Why would that matter to Jones?

"Does anybody?"

Jones shut his eyes, exhaling sharply, and Bree thought she could see something slide down his cheek. Oh, to have Bree say this to him! Jones felt like his heart was being ripped out anew. He quivered, and then thrust his claw in the direction of the door, grating out harshly, "Go…now!" And then, not bothering to see if she left, he turned, sat down and started playing at the organ.

Bree wasn't sure she had ever heard the organs sound so haunting, so sad, or so strong. It was like the sound of a dying man's scream set to music. She had no idea how close she was.  
Bree didn't know what to do. All she could hear was the overpowering music. Suddenly remembering, she pulled the fiddle from her satchel. Fitting it to her chin, she readied the bow, a little shaky. Then she began to play.

A slow, sweet melody came from the little fiddle. The same tune that the organ was playing. A duet began, melancholy and beautiful. The organ faltered, and then stopped. Jones turned to Bree, his eyes wide and confused. Bree looked straight back at him, never stopping. Jones' face was unreadable, and his eyes never left Bree's. But Bree kept playing.

Jones at last turned again, starting up his part again, and the two instruments harmonized, playing a beautiful, sad song. The organ was far louder than the fiddle, and yet the fiddle was just as clear, easy to hear. It echoed through the room, out into the air, audible in all areas of the ship. The crew stopped, listening. They knew who was playing the fiddle. Bree.

Bree never took her eyes from her captain, the bow moving over the strings as the music swelled louder, like a long, continuous wail with the roar of the organ accompanying it. Bree felt moisture building in her eyes. She blinked, banishing the threatening dew from her eyelashes as she continued to play.

Why was she doing this?

_Remember yer mates, killed by the crew!_

_Remember the Goresail, smashed against the rocks!_

_Remember the brand on yer arm!_

_Remember the fins on yer back!_

_Remember the scars on yer body!_

_Remember…_

Remember this song… 

Bree closed her eyes, forgetting everything as she concentrated on the song. She couldn't keep the pity and sorrow from clouding her.

_Ye've been through a lot of pain, mate._

_So has yer captain._

Bree suddenly realized that the organ had finished its part. Only the fiddle kept its sweet wail. Bree brought it to a graceful, slow halt. The last note hung on the air hauntingly, fading away. At last, Bree removed the fiddle from her chin. Horror was in her eyes. What had she done? Jones was looking at her, but she didn't know what he was thinking.

Suddenly, a very familiar tinkling noise started up. Bree and Jones both snapped their heads around. The music box! Jones had put it back in its usual place by his organ. It was the ending of their song.

As the music box played, Bree slowly began moving back. Still shocked and horrified, she dropped the fiddle and the bow with a clatter and bolted for the door, not looking back. Jones turned, standing as if to stop her, but he couldn't find his voice.

Bree didn't even bother to close the door behind her. She went straight to the hold. She would be safest there.

Bootstrap hadn't seen Bree all day. He went down to the hold, concerned for his friend. And there she was, huddled in her hammock, curled up and the blankets thrown over her head. Bootstrap shook her gently, speaking, "Come now, Bree, ye've got to git up!"

Bree's muffled voice sobbed back, "No! G-go away!"  
Bootstrap tried several times to pull Bree out, but she hung on like a limpet, refusing to leave the hold. At last, Bootstrap gave up, saying irritably, "Cap'n'll have yer guts, missy!"

"I don't care!" was Bree's reply. Bootstrap shrugged, leaving Bree to lie there, still feeling a pang for the girl. She was confused.

Jones stood watching his crew. His eyes roved over all of them, counting them off. He made mental notes. There was Jimmylegs, flogging one of the unfortunate slackers. There was Clanker, there was Greenbeard, and there was Maccus. He counted off the rest of the crew.

Where was Bree?

Bree hadn't shown her face all day. Jones was aching to see her. To speak to her. But would she let him speak? He had seen the look on her face when he had ranted at her. She had been confused and frightened.

Jones called Maccus to his side, speaking in a low voice, "Where's Miss Bree?"

Maccus shrugged, and Jones growled. He then saw Bootstrap, and beckoned him over. He was Bree's best friend. He would know.

When asked, Bootstrap answered, "She ain't feelin' too chipper today, Cap'n. She asked to be left alone."

Bootstrap was surprised to see disappointment in Jones' pale blue eyes. He looked troubled. He waved his claw absently, "Carry on."

As Bootstrap left, Jones retreated to his cabin, looking over the charts. He bit at his lip, thinking hard. Where would he go now?

As he tried to think, unwanted voices began speaking in the dark corners of his mind.

_Bootstrap said Bree was ill._

_She's not ill, she's heartsick._

_She knows your song._

_She shared something with you._

_You spoke._

_You understood her._

_She understood you._

_You can't hide it anymore._

_She can't belong to you._

_But you want her to._

The next voice that spoke in Jones' mind made his stomach twist into a knot of pain and anguish.

_She's a free spirit. You'll destroy her._

Jones made up his mind. He heaved a great sigh and rose, leaving the cabin and going to Quittance, who was at the wheel. He spoke in a heavy voice, "Alter course."

Bree heard a soft voice calling her name. She opened her eyes slightly, raising her head. She rubbed at her eyes to clear them and made a sweep of the room.

Jones was standing near the stairs, calling to her. Bree felt confused and afraid. Was he going to punish her for her audacity the other day?

Jones beckoned to the girl, and Bree obediently slipped from her hammock, pulling on her jerkin and walking over to him. She trembled, afraid of what would come. Jones, not even bothering to explain, took Bree firmly by the arm and led her up the stairs. Bree, bewildered and still sleepy, stumbled after him, but whenever she tried to say something she was shushed.

Bree was once more led into Jones' cabin. Jones forced her gently onto the bench before the great organ, her back to the keys. Then Jones stepped back, beginning to pace nervously.

Bree was unsure of what to do, her heart pounding in her ears so hard that the clunk of Jones' footsteps was dulled. She simply sat there as Jones paced back and forth. At last, the captain stopped, turning to face Bree.

He spoke in an almost unsteady voice, "I've…I've decided to alter course. We're goin'…" Here he took a shuddering breath, "…we're goin' after th' _Pearl_."

Bree didn't understand. Jones saw the puzzled look she wore and clarified, "I'm goin' to take ye back, Bree…back to the…the _Pearl_." His voice made him sound as if he was fighting back something.

Bree was speechless. He was going to release her? But…_why?_

Does he not want me? 

Bree swallowed and said in a soft voice, "Why the change o' heart?"

Jones surprised Bree, moving closer to her and kneeling down in front of her so he was at eye level. He tipped her chin softly, "Today…when ye played the fiddle for me…I knew ye didn't belong here. I ain't the master o' yer soul. Ye're an independent girl, Bree." He spoke with admiration in his voice, "Ye're a true pirate…free, brave an' a true fighter. Ye need to be free." He knew that if he still had his heart, it would be breaking again. But Bree didn't…she couldn't…

Bree was battling down a feeling that was growing larger and more intense.

_I don't want to go!_

She didn't want to leave! But why? She stood, as if to leave the cabin, but simply moved off to the side. Jones stood as well, waiting. Bree nibbled at her claws. _Why don't I want to go?_

_Because of him_.

Bree felt it all hit her. And it broke her heart. She felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks, and she began to weep softly.

Jones moved around Bree until he was facing her. She was crying. Jones didn't want her to cry. And for once, he spoke his thoughts to her, "Bree…please…please don't cry." But part of him felt hope rising in him.

Bree looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. Jones felt his inner voice speak in the lowest tones…_She's beautiful_.

Jones wished he had normal hands. He could wipe away her tears. He could hold her hands to comfort her. He wished he was a normal man. A normal man with a heart!

"What have ye done to me, Bree?"

Bree continued to weep, answering in a halting voice, "I…I don't know!"

Then she asked a question of her own, one that made Jones' heart, wherever it was, leap, "What have ye done to _me_?"

Jones made a strange noise, halfway between a sob and a sigh. He tipped Bree's chin softly, once again wishing he was a normal man. If he was a normal man, he could kiss her.

Bree looked up at him, pain shining in her eyes. Inside she felt her heart hammering away at her chest. She was afraid it would burst from her body at any moment.

Jones then did something he had never done after he had lost his heart. He placed his remaining hand on Bree's cheek and gently pressed his claw to the back of her neck. And to his delight, Bree raised her head. Jones bent down slowly, timidly. He kissed her mouth softly, thinking, _When was the last time I kissed a girl?_

Bree felt her heart catch fire. She closed her eyes, her heart thrumming in her ears. _Oh, if only!_ She placed her hand on his arm, softly clutching onto him. Jones drew away, looking to see Bree's response. He had half expected her to draw back in horror and repulsion, but she simply leaned forward again and pressed her mouth to his again. And Jones felt his soul soaring. He felt his tentacles threading around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she stepped easily into his embrace.

The two stood there, silent, clinging to one another. There was no need for words. They didn't have to say their feelings. They just knew. They knew one another's hearts. They both understood.

And they also both knew that this would be their only chance to show it.


	16. Release and Rivalry

Chapter XVI

Release and Rivalry

Bree and Jones remained together in the cabin until early dawn, never speaking a word to eachother. Bree at last left the cabin, her cheeks pink and her limbs shaky. She didn't look back as the door closed softly behind her. She stumbled down the stairs to the hold, making her way to her hammock. No one would ever know…ever.

Bree didn't know the feelings that were whirling around in her mind now. Her body was numb, but on fire as well. Aye, nothing had happened between the girl and her captain except for a soft kiss, but still, that was enough to fan the blaze.

Jones hadn't moved since the girl had left. He looked down at the floor, feeling a dull thrumming in his ears. He shut his eyes, almost not daring to believe that it had all happened. Bree had kissed him. She had willingly gone into his embrace!

_She loves me!_

Bootstrap woke from his half slumber, turning over in his hammock to face Bree. She was curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and biting on her pant leg as dried tears crusted her cheeks.

Concerned and alarmed, Bootstrap raised his head, calling softly, "Bree…mate, what's wrong?"

Bree's reddened eyes shot over to meet his, alarm spreading through her face, "N-nothin'! Lemme alone!" She curled up tighter, as if she was trying to hide.

Bootstrap rose, going to Bree's side. He forcibly uncurled her, pulling her into a sitting position. Bree had tears running fresh down her cheeks. She was sobbing silently, and Bootstrap felt a stab of pity for her. What was troubling her so?

Bootstrap pressed a hand to Bree's cheek, "Mate, what's gotten into ye? Ye've never broken down like this!"

Bree pushed his hand away, still sobbing. She wished that she could confide in him, but no one should know! No one!

Bootstrap stepped back, knowing it was no good. Bree was inconsolable. But he didn't understand why. Had something happened? "Well…I wish ye'd tell me what's wrong."

Bree shook her head, slipping out of her hammock. The crew was waking now, and Bree knew that she would have no privacy. She didn't want to deal with the smirks and looks now. They may have warmed up to her, but they still looked at her strangely when she cried.

Bree climbed up the stairs to the deck, praying inwardly.

_Please don't let Jones be out here!_

But Bree stopped short, her heart dropping. He stood by the door of his cabin, and he saw her. His gaze was riveted to her, and Bree could see pain clouding the pale blue depths. Bree wanted to cry out, to do anything.

_Why did ye let yerself fall in love?_

Bree felt the tears falling down her cheeks as she looked at Jones. Her captain. The man she loved. And the man she could never be with.

Placing a hand over her mouth, Bree forced her legs to move. She felt physically ill. Longing made her heart burn. The knowledge that she would soon be apart from Jones made her head spin with sorrow.

_But I don't belong here!_ she cried out to herself.

Bree stumbled to the side, slipping over to land on the bowsprit. Jones had to know that she loved him. She loved him so that it made her entire body burn with aching.

Bree remembered the pain of the chain lashing across her back. She thought no pain could compare to that. She was wrong.

She was suffering from the pangs of love.

Jones watched as Bree slipped over the side. He could sense her agony. He felt it as well. The thought of her being away from him was making the old wound where his heart should have been ache abominably, but there was nothing else to do. Bree didn't belong with him.

Being parted from Bree would be as painful as losing his first love. But Jones knew that Bree loved him. That dulled the pain, but not the longing.

Jones stood beside the door to his cabin, staring down at the deck. He wished with all his being that he could find a way to be with Bree. He would do anything. He loved the girl! He loved her so much that it hurt him! Aye, he had loved his lady of long ago, but Bree…Bree was different.

Bree was a warrior, a tough, feisty young girl, someone who could fight and stand up for herself and her friends. Jones admired and respected her. And now he loved her. He wanted to be with her for eternity. He was already trapped in the prison of this monstrous form he had taken on, and he was also trapped on the _Dutchman_. Bree's love for him touched him. And he was certain she loved him. What girl would enter the embrace of a monster? Answer the kisses and caresses of a frightening form of a man? Return the love of the dreaded sea himself?

Only a girl who loved him.

Jones sighed brokenly. Bree wasn't fated to be with him. He could never have her. But what truly broke his heart, wherever it was, was the fact that Bree would also suffer. She would be in emotional pain. Jones didn't want her to hurt. Right now he had to resist an urge to call her to him and take her into his embrace again. But that would only make matters worse. And their love had to remain a secret. Forever.

Jones leaned against the door post, crossing his arms over his chest. He still felt the warmth in his skin from having Bree's body pressed to his. He had felt overwhelming desire flood through him. But what delighted Jones was the fact that there were no lewd thoughts in his mind. He didn't want Bree for her physical charms. He wanted her for who she was, and what she meant to him. He wanted her for her.

Jones looked out over the waves. They would soon be coming up on the _Black Pearl_. Jones felt a small spark of potential jealously light. What if Sparrow tried to made unwanted advances on Bree? Jones now knew that Bree wouldn't allow Sparrow to do this, but…hadn't Jones been hurt before? _No! _Bree wouldn't do something like that! She was so loyal, sweet and caring.

Jones smiled softly. Even if he had to let her go, Bree was his, and no other's.

Bree was curled up on the bowsprit, her leg swinging out over the water and her cheek pressed against the long, jutting sprit. She shut her eyes, tears still dripping from her cheeks to fall below an mingle in the spray of the sea.

_The Flying Dutchman is my home now!_

She didn't belong here. She had never really belonged. But now…she wished she did. For him.

Opening her eyes, Bree sucked in her breath, not realizing that at the same moment, Davy Jones was sucking in his own breath.

On the horizon was a sail.

A black sail.

Bree sat in the hold, hugging her knees to her chest. Tears still set a course down her cheeks. Bootstrap sat next to her. He had seldom left her side, still concerned for her.

Bree was able to hide the reason for her sadness with an excuse. The entire crew now knew of Bree's impending freedom. They all expected her to be gleeful and lighthearted, knowing she would soon be free. But her tears confused them all.

When confronted once again by Bootstrap, Bree answered, "I…I don't want to leave ye on this floatin' prison!"

Bootstrap put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. Somehow he thought that this was a lie. But only partially.

And he was right. Bree wouldn't want to leave Bootstrap here. She loved him as a father figure, and would miss him. But her heart was breaking inside her. Separation from Jones was imminent, but necessary. And painful.

Jones stood at the prow, watching the _Pearl_. She had seen the pursuer and was setting full sail. He looked over his shoulder at Quittance, "Go get a strip o' white cloth."

Quittance nodded, disappearing into the hold. He reappeared with a tattered rag clutched in his claw. He handed it to his captain, who examined it. Something didn't seem right…

"Where did ye get this?"

Quittance was somewhat surprised that he would ask, but he answered, "In Miss Bree's hammock."

Jones tensed his jaw and turned the cloth over. There was dried blood stained into the fabric. Bree's blood. From the many floggings Jones had inflicted on her.

Jones looked up, handing it back to Quittance, "Flag o' truce."

Quittance nodded, still confused, but he turned to do his captain's orders.

Soon, the tattered strip of bloodstained cloth was flying at the mast. Jones barely took his eyes off of it. Then his gaze swung to the _Pearl_.

Jack looked across at the _Dutchman_. He saw the small strip of white cloth flapping like a trapped bird. Jones wanted to parley.

Gibbs looked in the same direction, "Well, Cap'n? Orders?"

Jack glanced at Gibbs, then back at the _Dutchman_. "We'll listen to what they have to say."

Will stood beside Jack, "Is that wise? Won't Jones try anything?"

Jack sighed, "He's already got Bree, mate."

Will tilted his head, confused, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jack looked at Will as if he were daft, but left it alone. He spoke again, "Davy Jones didn't start out as a pirate, mate. He was an honest man, as hard as that is t' think. But 'e keeps his promises an' doesn't lie or break codes."

Will looked skeptical, but normally Jack's instincts led him correctly.

As the _Dutchman _neared the _Pearl_, Jack tensed. He fondled the hilt of his sword, a nervous tick he had, the only sign of his unease. Will gripped the railing tightly. They had failed Bree. What was Jones doing now? Rubbing it in their faces?

The two ships came side to side, and Will looked to Jack. Jack was watching Jones, but then Will saw his eyes start scanning the ship. He was looking for Bree. Where was she?

Bootstrap took Bree's hand in his, squeezing affectionately. He had to blink back tears as he spoke in a soft whisper, "C'mon, lass. Jack's come for ye."

Bree looked up at her friend, tears standing in her eyes. She wished she could tell him…but no.

As Bree let Bootstrap lead her out of the hold, she had to pass by the crew. Two of her mates stood, blocking their way. Jimmylegs strode over to Bree. He put his claw on her shoulder, speaking in a gruff voice, "Good luck, missy."

Bree swallowed, feeling a jolt of affection. She never thought she could feel attached to these monsters. But she was one of them! They were her mates!

Bree took the bosun's hand in her own, shaking it and nodding. Then, one by one, the crew filed past, saying their goodbyes. Penrod actually had slimy tears in his eyes as he said goodbye. One or two of the crew gave Bree a small hug, and one gave her a dagger as a parting gift.

Bree felt it all hit her hard. She would never sit in the circle with her mates, playing Liar's Dice, or share a bottle of grog or rum with one of them, or join in a chantey. The camaraderie had been hidden from her, and now she appreciated it…only to have it end.

Bree at last left the hold, the crew following her. Bootstrap still had his hand on her shoulder as she ascended the stairs. As she came up, her eyes met Jones'. Tears formed a bubble in her throat as she looked at him. She went faint with emotion. She knew that after this, she would never see him again.

Bree turned to Bootstrap, embracing him. Tears flowed down her cheeks to wet his shoulder as she spoke in a broken voice, "Thank ye, mate. I'll never forget ye."

Bootstrap kissed Bree's cheek, brushing some loose strands of hair from her forehead as he answered, "An' I'll never forget ye, Bree. None of us will. Ye brought us hope. Somethin' we all needed."

Bree nodded, sniffing. She would never have survived her ordeal on the _Dutchman_ without Bootstrap. She stepped back, and turned back to look across at the _Pearl_.

Jones watched Bree, never taking his eyes from her. When she turned to look at him, he felt the hole in his chest burning. Why? Why did it have to be her?

Jones slowly limped his way over to the girl, hesitantly reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. Fire shot up his arm, and he felt her flinch. He swallowed and then spoke, "Well, missy…I'll take ye aboard."

Bree shut her eyes, nodding. When she reopened her eyes, she was onboard the _Pearl_. The crew all stepped back, alarmed as Jones let go of Bree and stepped forward to confront Jack. Jack still had his hand on his sword but stayed calm.

"_Captain_ Sparrow," Jones said, some slight scorn in his voice. Jack cleared his throat, answering, "Glad ye've finally gotten that."

Jones looked to Bree, then back to Jack, "I'm here to return the girl." Bree felt tears sting her eyes at the way he said those words. They sounded so…pained. At least to her.

Jack and the others looked surprised. Jack recovered quickly, "Oh…well, that's nice of ye." He looked to Bree, winking at her, "We'll be glad to have ye back!"

Bree forced a smile. She tried not to look like she felt.

Jones turned to Bree, remarking to the others, "I just have to release her."

Will looked out at Bree. Something wasn't right. He whispered to Jack, "I think we should step back for a moment."

Jack, taking this advice, made a signal for the others to draw away.

Bree bowed her head, the tears finally spilling over. _Maybe they'll think they're happy tears!_ she thought.

Jones looked down at the deck for inspiration, then said, "I'm goin' to return yer soul to ye. An'…an' some other things." Bree felt a twinge in her heart.

The crew of the _Black Pearl_ watched in fascination. None dared to say anything. Even Cotton's parrot stayed silent.

Bree stood straight and tall, tears still sliding down her cheeks but her eyes like stone. Jones moved slowly towards her, removing the medallion from its concealed hiding place. He circled around Bree, and gently stroked the hair from her shoulders, moving the chain around her neck and securing the clasp as best he could, his single hand unable to do so very well. But somehow he accomplished it. He then stroked Bree's hair back again and moved away.

Bree felt the medallion. It was warm, warm and slightly tarnished. She turned to face Jones, tears falling from her eyes. She didn't know what to say. She simply bowed her head, letting the tears spatter onto the deck. She looked to Jack and Will. They couldn't understand what she was feeling. She had a certain connection. But they would never know what it felt like. She held out her hand, and Jones clasped it, holding on tightly, so tight it hurt Bree's fingers, but she held on just as tightly.

Jones' eyes were unreadable. He spoke in a thick voice, "Miss Bree…I release ye from yer debt."

Bree could only nod, and gently disentangled her hand from Jones', finding it almost difficult.

Bree stepped back, clenching her fists. She watched as Jones reached into his coat, pulling out the small music box.

Jones held the music box in his hand, fondling it and looking at it tenderly. He still loved it. Was this the only way to show Bree that…he cared for her? Without showing others?

Jones reached out and took Bree's hand in his. He placed the small box in her palm, closing her fingers over it and holding onto her again. His eyes were soft as he looked at her, memories and pain all blending into one. Bree was his escape.

Jones took in the sight of Bree to lock away in his memory. He knew he would most likely never see her again. His Bree. His beautiful pirate maiden…

Jones had just now noticed how blue her eyes were. Even though she had been with the crew of the _Dutchman_ long enough to begin transformation, her eyes had never lost their color to turn into that pale, sickly blue that all the crewmembers had. They were still so deep, so bright, so beautiful! Jones had to resist the urge and desire to touch her face again. Was she in as much pain as he was?

Bree felt her tears spilling over her cheeks. She wanted to say something, to tell him how she felt, to throw her arms around him, to show him…to show him how she felt for him. But she couldn't. No one would ever know. No one.

Jones' eyes were stormy. He could see his feelings reflected in Bree's eyes. They both knew.

Bree, too overcome with emotion, could only mouth the word, "Goodbye."

Jones gave her a faint smile. He moved forward, only to halt and step back again, his lips twitching as if he wanted to say something. But he never did. He turned, going to the rail and disappearing, back to the _Dutchman_.

Bree stood silent for a long time, clutching onto the music box. After summoning up her strength, she turned to the others. She gave a small smile, her eyes unreadable, "It's done, mates."

But her happiness wasn't genuine. She was glad to be on the _Pearl, _glad to be a human again and glad to be with her friends again but she would never be the same.

She had lost part of herself.

Bree sat in Jack's cabin, her eyes gazing off at nothing. A knock came at the door. Bree shook off her daze, calling out, "C'min."

Jack inched the door open, then entered, going over to the girl. He put his hand on her shoulder, "Ye all right, mate?"

Bree nodded, trying to sound cheerful, "Aye, I'm fine. By the way, where are we goin'?"

Jack sat down, answering, "Goin' to see Tia Dalma. There's still the matter o' the heart."

Jack saw Bree tense, and when she relaxed he could tell it was forced. She spoke, "Aye, that's right. How can she help us?"

Jack shrugged, "We'll find out when we get there."

Bree nodded, rising and going to the door, "I'll be out…here…if ye need me."

Jack inclined his head, realizing how strange Bree was acting. She seemed so distant. Ah, well. Maybe the shock of being freed. Jack waved his hand, "Don't worry 'bout a thing, mate. Just relax. Ye need rest."

Bree smiled weakly, closing the door behind her. She headed for the bow, looking out over the waves.

Elizabeth, who had been absent during Bree's return, staying down in the hold for her own safety, now came to join her. She hugged her friend, saying, "It's good to see you, Bree. Glad to be free?"

Elizabeth felt Bree's shoulders go rigid, but she answered, "Aye, mate. Thankee. An' good to see ye as well!" She returned her hug, giving a show of smiling. Elizabeth could detect the sorrow in the bottomless depths of Bree's blue eyes. She had noticed that when Bree was angry, a sort of red mist clouded that beautiful blue color, and now there seemed to be a mist that darkened her eyes. Elizabeth, concerned, asked, "What's wrong, Bree?"

Bree stiffened, "Nothin'! I'm just…just tired…" She sounded rather prickly.

Elizabeth sensed the defensive tone in Bree's choked voice. Something was troubling her. But she left it alone. Bree obviously had something troubling her, but she must think she had to work it out alone.

Elizabeth stayed by Bree's side until the girl had calmed somewhat. Then she went to join Will.

Bree sighed. She didn't want her friends to think she wasn't grateful. But…she just didn't see how life could be so cruel! _Why, of everyone on this good earth, do I love the one man I can never be with?_

Bree sat in the longboat, pulling at the oar on the right side. Pintel sat next to her, pulling as well. Bree had insisted she help row, as the work would take her mind off of the gnawing thoughts eating at her mind.

Fog covered the swamp as they neared Tia Dalma's shack. Bree looked over her shoulder at it. It was built up in the intertwined branches of a large tree. Bree marveled at the sight. Candlelight flickered from the slanting windows and the house timbers swayed and creaked like a ship, almost.

The longboat pulled up to the shack and Bree pulled in her oar. Jack tied the boat to a post and stepped out of it onto the small patio below the ladder to the house. He turned, "Short visit, mates."

Bree stepped out of the boat, skillfully moving without rocking it as the others came out after her. One by one they all climbed the small ladder and entered the house.

Bree was amazed. It was like walking into a pawn shop from another world. Bottles and jars hung from the ceiling, filled with grisly objects. Small trinkets were scattered about the room, and Bree could see two stuffed bats hung on the wall. She felt something brush against her arm, and she turned, seeing a large yellow snake. She flinched, moving to the side.

Jack cleared his throat. A woman who was sitting hunched at a table in the center of the room raised her head, her reddened eyes assessing the newcomers. Then she smiled, revealing teeth blackened by some sort of plant dye.

Bree instantly tensed when she saw Tia Dalma. She didn't like her. Her hackles rose instinctively and a growl suddenly began rumbling in her throat. Her hand went to the medallion around her neck. The brand on her arm had begun to sting again. She felt…grieved.

Tia seemed to be friendly to everyone. She greeted Jack like an old friend and the others with the same attitude. But when the woman saw Bree, her eyes hardened. She looked at her with almost a hostile glare. Bree returned the look, her fiery eyes never flinching. Both females sensed something in one another. Something they didn't like.

Bree sat down a fair distance away, positioning herself behind Gibbs so he sat between her and Tia. She continued stroking the chain around her neck, the warmth still in her medallion. It comforted her in a way. It hadn't been like this before. First it had been worn by her mother. And then Jones. It was like…a reminder.

Tia talked to the others of matters that didn't concern Bree. Her eyes wandered over the shack. Suddenly, she gave a sharp gasp that alerted everyone. Her eyes were huge and fierce. She rose, walking over to the table and slamming her hand down, scooping something up. She held a locket, the charm heart shaped and engraved with the same design as the design on Davy Jones' music box. Bree knew every detail as well as Jones did. She cradled the necklace in her palm, and then looked up at Tia, "Where did ye get this?"

Tia stared back at her, speaking in a harsh voice, "Why?"

Bree fumbled in her shirt for the pouch, at last pulling it out and revealing the music box. The onlookers immediately saw the similarities.

Tia's dark eyes flashed with sudden anger. She snarled up at Bree, "Where did ya git _dat_?"

Bree found herself answering, "A friend." Then her voice softened, "A dear…dear friend."

Tia looked a bit offended and maybe…maybe a bit jealous. She reached for the music box, foolishly picking it up, but Bree gave out a roar and lunged forward, grabbing the music box and wrenching it away, snarling, "Don't touch it!"

Tia didn't listen and reached for it again, but Bree actually hit her, saying in a dangerously low voice, "Don't…touch…the box."

Tia was shocked, and looked to the others. Jack hurriedly explained, "Jones gave it to 'er."

Bree felt tears sliding down her cheeks as she growled, "Aye…don't touch it! Don't get near it!"

Will put his hand on Bree's shoulder, gently easing her away and softly forcing her to sit next to Elizabeth. Elizabeth hooked her arms around Bree's shoulders, holding her still. Bree was shaking with rage, but she didn't try to get away.

Tia had a type of pout on her face at this moment, but she soon recovered when Jack sweetly asked her to continue. Once or twice while the witchdoctor talked, she would glance at Bree, shooting her a hate-laden glare. But Bree returned it, completely unafraid.

The others sat in the confined space of the shack, uncomfortable as the tension came off in waves from the two.

The meeting dragged on far too long for everyone, now. Especially for Bree. Anger and resentment made her quiver, and that locket made her heart freeze. She knew that Jones had loved someone before her. But…was it this woman? Bree almost felt her blood simmering at the thought.

At last, the heat grew too much. Tia Dalma looked across at Bree, growing weary of her piercing stare. She stood, thrusting an arm out in a brusque dismissal, "Git 'er out, now!" When Jack looked from one to the other uncertainly, Tia made her demand more clear, "I don' wan' 'er in here! Either she leaves, or I don' tell ya no more!"

Bree stood, her gaze level with Tia's. Her piercing blue eyes bored into Tia's, and the witchdoctor flinched. Bree growled out, "I don't want to have to stay in 'ere any longer 'n I have to!" Turning on her heels, Bree stormed out of the shack, pausing onto the rip down a strand of beads hanging from the ceiling. She looped it in her belt and leaped down the ladder, going to the boat and stepping in, her angry stance causing the boat to rock crazily. Bree sat down, arms crossed, her eyes set hard and her mind in a turmoil.

Bree was surprised when the others followed a short time later. Elizabeth took her place next to Bree, "Are you all right?"

Bree nodded sullenly, her hand fumbling with the fabric of her jerkin. Jack sat down across from Bree, "Sorry 'bout that, mate. Don't know what got into Tia. She normally ain't one to do somethin' like that."

Bree growled, biting back an insulting word. She guessed that Tia and Jack were more than friends. But still…

The boat at last pushed off to row back to the sea and to the _Pearl_.

Even thought Tia no longer competed for what Bree had gained aboard the Dutchman, Bree had met her rival.


	17. Davy's Lady

Chapter XVII

Davy's Lady

Bree looked down at the bag of coins that Jack had handed her. She looked back up at him, her cheeks flushed, "No, I won't take yer money! I don't need it!"

Jack silenced her with a raised hand and then knelt to hug her. He then drew away, speaking, "Now, missy, how d'ye expect to make money here? Just to hold ye over. I doubt ye'll be here long, will ye?"

Bree smiled slightly. He was right. She wouldn't be on Tortuga for long. When a next pirate crew was taking on members, she would leave this rock of an island.

Bree walked with Jack as far as the pier, and then waved as he boarded the _Pearl_.

Bree stood watching the black sailed ship heading back out to sea, out to look for the heart of Davy Jones. Bree had refused to go with them. She knew that Will was in favor of killing Jones, and Jack might be. Bree didn't want any part in that.

Bree at last lost sight of the ship as darkness rolled in around Tortuga. She turned, going back toward the sound of the normal Tortuga chaos.

Making her way to the door of the Faithful Bride Tavern, Bree then made her way through the brawl to buy a pint of grog. Then she purchased a small room and made her way up to it, trying hard to not spill her drink, even though she lost a few drops, much to her dismay.

Once she was safely up the small flight of stairs and in the small, dimly lit room, Bree locked the door. The noise was somewhat dulled, but every once in a while a splinter of wood would come dislodged as someone let fly a stray bottle or bullet in the tavern down below.

Bree sat down on the small, bare cot, taking a small strip of paper from her pouch. Before the crew of the _Pearl _had left, Bree had gone to Gibbs and requested him to write something for her. Being a kind, fatherly figure, Gibbs agreed and wrote in large letters.

Bree looked down at the medallion hanging about her neck. Then she took a small shard of flint. She went to the table, scooting a candle near to make the lighting better.

Bree laid the parchment out, studying it. Gibbs had good handwriting. She couldn't read the words, but she knew he had written what she asked. Gibbs was an honest pirate.

Bree took her medallion from around her neck, laying it down flat on the table. Then, tool in hand, Bree began to scratch the letters into the flat side of the medallion. She couldn't write, but she followed the markings on the parchment exactly.

Bree worked for hours, etching away. Her back hurt as well as her eyes from the low light, but when she finished, she stretched, brushing off the medallion. It was perfect! The carving was beautiful, the words perfect. Bree smiled.

Pulling on her cloak, Bree pulled the hood over her head and went down the stairs of the inn. She disappeared through the back way, unseen by all.

Bree found a few horses tied up outside the stables. Untying one, she swung on bareback, nudging it with her knees. She might have been a pirate but she knew how to ride. The horse ran at a swift canter along to the cliffs, high above the town of Tortuga and far away from it.

When they reached the highest point, Bree slid off, patting the horse's neck. The sky was as dark as the sea, and the horizon was undistinguishable. Bree went to the edge of the cliff, removing her hood. Her hair swayed gently in the sea breeze. Waves crashed against the rocks below.

Bree took out the medallion. She held it close, closing her eyes and simply standing there, letting memories flood back.

_She was on the bowsprits of the Flying Dutchman_.

Bree opened her eyes. Back on the sea cliff above Tortuga. The girl blinked back a tear. She clenched the chain tighter in her hands. She held it out, the little medallion swinging back and forth. Then, Bree drew back her arm and threw it out.

The necklace flew through the air, and then plummeted down. Bree was too high up to see if it hit, but she knew it did. She could feel it. She stood looking down for a while longer, and then let her gaze travel up to the horizon again.

A lone ship was sailing through the night, only visible from the highest point of the island. Bree smiled softly. The _Dutchman_.

Jones slammed his claw down on the keys of his organ, resulting in a loud boom. Frustration was making him violent. He could hear the crew, bickering again. He rose slowly, blinking back the film from his eyes. Then he made his way on deck.

Oldhaddy and Clanker was both pulling at something, yelling out oaths and curses at each other. Jones separated the two and growled out, "What's this?"

Clanker reluctantly held something out. Jones snatched it from him, looking from Oldhaddy to Clanker. Then he looked down at the object. The breath caught in his throat.

Bree's medallion!

"Where did ye find this?" Jones asked in a low voice.

"'Twas tossed up by a wave, sir," Clanker answered, looking to Oldhaddy.

Jones choked back something, and then said in a thick voice, "As ye were."

The crew all looked at their captain's retreating form. He'd been spending a lot of time in his cabin. He was always brooding.

Jones closed his door, locking it for the first time. He looked down at the medallion. He tenderly stroked it. He caressed it, marveling at how warm it was. Even after floating in the icy water, Bree's warmth had clung to it.

Jones turned the medallion over, his eyes misting over. Three words had been painstakingly carved in.

_For my captain_.

Jones clenched the medallion in his hand, pressing his fist to his forehead. _Why did I have to lose my heart all over again?_

Jones looped the chain around his neck, hiding it beneath his shirt and his beard of tentacles. He would wear it always. But he would never show it to anyone. It would remain as secret as his feelings.

Jones left his cabin then, vowing silently, _I will never speak her name again. Unless the storm of the sea breaks loose. _

Jones was right. Bree was like a sea storm. He was the sea, she was the storm. She was wild. And she stirred him, infuriated him, unsettled him, but at the same time calmed him. She had breached the wall of memories, and built her own.

She had made him love her.

Bree yawned, lifting her head from the mattress of her cot and stretching out her arms, flexing her muscles and sighing contentedly. Her headache from the night before had worn off. She made a groggy mental note to never drink that much rum all at once. Though she did get a good fight out of it. She had left three men unconscious and another with a broken leg. Bree smiled, remembering. Jones would be proud, she decided. He seemed to admire her feisty nature, even though he never tried to show it or tell her. He couldn't. But now Bree could sense his feelings for her. Even if they were apart.

Rising from the cot, Bree stretched again, arching her back and moaning in pleasure. She then reached for her jerkin, going to the small shard of mirror in the corner. She twisted around and looked at her back. Bree had expected those fins to go away. It had been almost a month. But nothing about Bree's transformed state had changed back to the way it had been.

Maybe her heart was still with the _Dutchman_.

_No…it's with the captain._

Bree sighed, slipping on the jerkin and buckling her belt and tying her sash around her waist. Then she shook out her hair, combing through it with her fingers. Then she quickly braided it and strapped on her sword. Then, unlocking the door, she left, descending the stairs and going out into the hectic air of Tortuga.

Bree had earned a reputation in Tortuga. At least among the regulars. She was identified by her strange fangs and the broadsword she carried slung over her back. They all knew her as a fierce fighter and a tough, formidable pirate. Most were surprised she hadn't joined a crew yet. But no one had approached her. Most were a bit uneasy at the thought of having her on board.

Bree wasn't discouraged. She was somehow certain that something would come her way. Little did she know…

Jimmylegs stood at the railing of the _Dutchman_. Clanker climbed up the side, saluting as Jones came on deck, looking anxious.

Clanker threw back his hood, shaking slime from the hem as he spoke, "She's there, sir. Stayin' at that little inn."

Jones nodded, not looking at anyone as he digested the information. Without thinking, he spoke in a gruff voice, "How's she look?"

Clanker, not prepared for this question, answered hesitantly, "She…looks…like a bored whelp too stuck up to take a job as a wench…which is the only thing she's good for!" At this a few chuckles broke out.

Jones felt anger boiling inside him. He had a sudden urge to tear the hide from Clanker's back! Tortuga wench indeed…the very idea made Jones' blood grow hot. Bree was too honest a girl to do something like that. She was a pirate, not a wench!

_Bored, eh?_

Jones felt an idea strike him. Why not bring a little adventure Bree's way? He knew that would make her happy. Why not drive some ships to Tortuga? Some proper pirate ships?

Jones felt a smile threaten to show as he inwardly said, _She's cursed in her own way. She doesn't _want _to leave the sea._

Bree sat on a crate, banging her heels against the wood, drumming out a beat and humming her beloved captain's tune. She gazed lazily out at the busy harbor. Nothing today. No one approached her, and she was glad. Nothing but rag tag crews and fishing boats.

Sighing, Bree slammed her left heel against the crate extra hard. Would she be stuck here forever? She had been so used to never even seeing land on the _Dutchman_.

_I would take another floggin' if it meant feelin' the spray on my face._

Bree opened her eyes, feeling a soft breeze blow in from the sea to caress her face. The smell of the salty air brought a pang of homesickness to Bree. The sea was her home. Now she was stranded on Tortuga. Everyone was too frightened to let her join their crew.

Bree sighed heavily. Was it just her, or did a long, deep sigh answer her back?

It was like any other night in Tortuga; loud, hectic and dangerous. Bree sat in the tavern, her second tankard of rum sitting at her elbow, half empty. It was late, but Bree wasn't tired. And even if she had been, she wouldn't have gone to bed. Somehow she had a feeling that something would happen.

Several brawls had broken out, but Bree had stayed out of them, a surprising accomplishment. Somehow, Bree felt she should stay sober and intact this evening. Something was going to happen.

And happen it did, far into the night.

Bree leaned her elbow on the table, looking about lazily. She drummed her fingers on the tabletop as she observed a man enter the tavern. He was a pirate captain, she could tell. He commanded authority and looked like a tough old sailor. And by the way he was scanning the room, she could tell he was looking for a crew. Her heart began beating about one hundred times faster, her excitement growing.

The pirate's gaze landed on Bree. She lowered her eyes, sensing his approach. She didn't speak until spoken to, her throat pulsing so hard she couldn't swallow.

Bree heard the clink of coins as a small purse was dumped on the table near her. She looked up. The man was grinning at her. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Bree looked at the purse and then, sick with disappointment, scooted it across back to him, saying roughly, "Ye're lookin' in the wrong place, mate."

The man chuckled, speaking in a coarse voice, "I ain't lookin' for that sort o' thing, missy, though ye are very pretty. I've heard of ye. Bad Luck Bree. Crewed the _Flying Dutchman_. Recognize ye from the broadsword."

Bree looked up again. Word traveled fast. She glanced back down, fingering the hilt of her dagger so as not to seem so eager, "Well, what of it?"

The purse was pushed back to her side of the table, "Me ship was driven here in a storm. Lost several men. I'm lookin' for a new crewmember. I could always use a good fighter like ye. True pirate is what ye are, marm. Though ye're a bit young to be a marm, aren't ye?" He grinned.

Bree made a growling noise but picked up the purse, jangling it experimentally. "This all I get out of it?" She would have taken it anyway, but still…

The man laughed again, "Piratin' is its own reward, Miss Bree. My ship is called the _Bloodmast_. Ye must be bored here. I don't think of ye as one to sit about drinkin' all hours. The rascals that come here wouldn't leave ye alone if they didn't know who ye were."

Bree was beginning to act interested. She pricked up her ears, "Where are ye headed?"

The man smiled, "Nowhere in particular, missy. Just wherever I please."

Bree grinned, "Just where I need to go."

The old pirate grinned back, rising, "Then ye'll join me crew?"

Bree rose as well, gripping his extended hand and shaking it, "Aye, sir. An' what might I call ye?"

The man smiled broadly, saying, "Ye'll refer to me as Cap'n Barbossa."

This left Bree in no doubt. Her adventures weren't even close to over.

The _Bloodmast_ was a good vessel, and Bree grew as attached to her as she had to the _Goresail_. She worked her way up to be Barbossa's first mate, one of the fiercest pirates in the Caribbean.

Barbossa was impressed by Bree and very fond of her. But he had no idea that she was a lucky charm for him.

Bree was keeping off the _Flying Dutchman_.

Jones made a point of purposefully crossing paths with the _Bloodmast_. However, the _Dutchman_ kept hidden. Jones' eyesight was good. He would simply stand and watch his young pirate maid at work, fingering the medallion around his neck.

Jones had vowed never to attack the _Bloodmast_. Not while Bree was one of its crew. Many times he was tempted to stop the ship and board her, just to see Bree. But he couldn't be selfish. Bree couldn't have him in her life. He had to stay away from her. Watching her from a distance would have to do.

Bree's crewmates thought the young girl odd. She was a true pirate, and all loved her, but she was somewhat strange. Of course, they all knew her story. She was commonly known as the _Flying Dutchman_'s crewgirl. But they didn't know all of the story. No one knew all of it. Only Bree and Davy Jones.

Bree never slept below if the night was calm and clear. She would sleep on deck, under the stars, facing the open sea. And she would rise early in the morning and sit near the bow, singing softly. All of her mates had asked her to sing the song to them. And she had, telling of her life's story.

This morning was no different. Bree sat by the bow, singing gently, her song the same as ever. But she had changed one verse. The lines _My soul belongs to Davy Jones, unwillin' and unforgivin'_ were changed to the words _My heart belongs to Davy Jones, it has no other master._

Bree closed her eyes as she sang, letting a single tear trickle from her eye. She finished singing, giving a shuddering sigh as she gazed out across the waves. Somewhere…somewhere out there…_she _was somewhere out there. The _Dutchman_. And her captain, too. The _Dutchman_'s captain.

And Bree's captain.

Jones stood at the railing of the _Dutchman_, looking out over the waves. He looked as if he was concentrating on something. If one of the crewmembers made any loud noises he would hold up his claw and snarl for silence.

The crew all looked at one another, unsure of what to think. It was like this every morning. He would stand there for a long time in the mornings, just gazing out over the water and ordering silence.

He was listening.

Jones could hear Bree singing. She had such a beautiful voice. It was almost too low for a girl's but too melodious for a boy's. And her song…

When the song was finished, Jones felt his shoulders slump slightly. He wished she would keep singing. He remembered first hearing her sing the song, when she was at the wheel of the _Dutchman_. Why had he never realized how beautiful she was then? Why had he never understood what he had felt all along in his very soul? Why hadn't he…why hadn't he told her sooner?

Because he was afraid. Afraid she would reject him. Afraid she would laugh. Afraid she would cry out in horror and repulsion. Afraid she was shudder at his touch. But he was wrong. She had shown him in more ways than one.

She loved him.


	18. Moving On

Chapter XVIII

Moving On

Two years.

It had been two years. Jones had felt as if it had been two decades. Two years. Two years without Bree.

Of course, Jones had hidden these feelings of loss. The crew couldn't know. If they knew…

Why didn't Jones want them to know? Did he think they would view his affection for Bree as a weakness? Jones, ever since he had been so terribly hurt by love, had viewed it as a terrible weakness. It hurt…but Bree…she actually loved him back. She was slowly healing the wound in his scarred chest. Just the knowledge of her love was like a soothing salve.

Jones, every morning, would listen to Bree's beautiful voice sing her song over the waves. Somehow he felt as if she was singing for him. The passion carried in her tones was that of a virgin widowed before her marriage. Stripped of love, bereft of the only affection allowed her.

And every evening, Jones would sit in his cabin and listen. Listen to the same tune, but this time in the form of his music box. He could still hear it. He was pleased that Bree was using it. It was a way to assure him that his little pirate still belonged to him, if only in her heart. Every night. Every night it played. Jones received a mental picture of her cradling the small music box in her hand as she slept, her hammock swinging back and forth with the swell of the tide, her face peaceful…as she dreamed of him.

He had no idea how accurate that picture was.

"_Fire!"_

Jones' voice rang out over the water, soon followed by the thunderous boom of the _Flying Dutchman_'s guns going off one by one. The opposing ship was splintered to matchwood, debris and shards of wood spinning through the morning fog.

Jones made a motion and the crew, all eager for battle, made their way over to the enemy ship, weapons at the ready. Jones himself crossed to the wrecked vessel, drawing his broadsword. Normally he didn't take part in the battles, but this was a good way to vent his sorrow from losing Bree.

Jones was confronted by a young man, who was holding a rapier in his trembling hand. His large dark eyes were flooded with terror as he looked at his opponent. Jones swung his sword out, the sturdy blade actually snapping through the rapier blade and severing the young man's head. Jones, his eyes reddened with bloodlust, went after the next man within his reach, grabbing him around the neck and ramming the blade into his back up to the hilt until it protruded from the man's chest.

Wrenching his blade free, Jones turned, feeling a sharp sting on his lower leg. Looking down, he saw a young boy, no older than eight, hanging on for dear life, biting and clawing. Reaching down, Jones lifted the boy by his neck, ready to squeeze the life out of him.

Suddenly, an image of Bree flashed before his eyes. She was standing before the young boy they had captured from the vessel _Seabuck_. She was shaking her head, saying in a defiant voice, _"I ain't gonna kill a child."_

Striding over to the side, Jones cut the ropes to the boats, watching as it splashed below. Lifting the boy by the collar, Jones snarling in his face, "Get yerself to land, an' sharpish!" Without another word, he flung the boy over the side, into the sea. He watched as the boy floundered in the water, not taking his eyes away until the child had managed to climb into the boat.

Jones turned away, somehow feeling that Bree would have been very proud.

All the crew were dead, now. Jones wasn't taking any prisoners. He stood at the railing of the _Dutchman_, wiping his blade off with a dirty rag. Maccus came to stand beside him, saluting, "No plunder here, Cap'n."

Jones nodded absently. Then a squabble broke out between Clanker and Penrod. They were both trying to haul a chest onto the _Dutchman_, both wanting it for himself. Jones sighed in exasperation, striding over to them. He pried the crewmembers apart and slammed his claw down on the lock of the chest, snapping it off. He opened the chest, his eyes falling on a bundle of parchment. There was a wooden box. Opening it, Jones found ink, a quill and wax. And idea began forming in his mind.

Taking hold of the chest, Jones spoke, "I'll take these. Nothin' o' use for ye numbskulls." But as he passed Clanker, he clapped him heartily on the back.

Jones hadn't written a letter in so long. He wondered if he could remember how.

Starting was harder than Jones thought it would be. How would he address Bree? _Dear Bree? Miss Bree?_

Jones left a space before writing Bree's name. He would come back to it.

Yet Jones found himself stalling again. What would the tone of his letter be? He wanted to let her know he missed her. That he cared for her. That he loved her. But…what if the message was lost and then found by a stranger? Surely…Jones winced. He shouldn't care what others thought.

But one of the main reasons Jones didn't want others knowing of his love for Bree was to keep Bree safe. There were many power hungry, evil men who would see Bree as a tool to obtain that power. They might threaten her life, or kidnap her and ransom her for all of Jones' powers over the sea. Jones would give them up in exchange for Bree, but he didn't want that to happen. Why not avoid it if possible?

Jones started writing out a few agonizingly plain lines. His handwriting wasn't as good as it had been once. The strange shape of his hand made it harder to hold the quill properly.

The captain started the letter off with a simple salutation. Nothing too personal, almost like a businessman speaking to another businessman.

But as the letter went on, Jones found himself slipping and writing a few endearments. The one he noticed that seemed to be appearing most frequently was the term 'dear heart'. When he noticed all this, Jones forced himself to stop writing like this. The letter went on for a few lines, noticeably plainer and more thought over.

But once again, the tone of sweet yearning slipped in through the ink. Jones felt as if he was barely thinking about what he was writing. It began flowing out of him, the sorrow, the heartbreak, and the agony of being away from his beloved Bree. He had to let her know!

Before Jones caught himself, he found himself writing as if he was courting her. Worded like a love poem, his letter had almost reached the end of the piece of parchment. Biting his lip, the sea captain brought the letter to a rapid close. Then he signed his name, in big bold letters. His signature hadn't changed, even after centuries of never even picking up a pen.

Jones sat there, just staring at the letter. Then he read over it. Over and over again, he read it. He tried to imagine Bree's expression were she reading this. He was struggling inside. Part of him longed to send the letter, to let Bree know that he still adored her, even after two years of separation. But another…knew this would be painful to Bree. To remember. It would be like tearing open an old wound that wasn't quite fully healed.

Jones, angry with himself and with the unfairness of it all, tore the parchment, throwing it down and treading it into the slimy deck. He snarled, feeling tears of hot anger and disappointment stinging his eyes. _If only I could let her know!_

Needing to calm down, Jones turned to his music. He gently stroked the keys of his organ, his mind working. He bent his neck down, moving his tentacles down, spreading them out over the keys. Then he began softly pressing them down, almost at random. He felt as if something was guiding him.

Before Jones even realized it, a beautiful, simple melody was playing. It was somewhat slow and halting, as Jones had never played it before, and it was playing out in his mind.

Jones began to play faster and stronger, the music coming to him like a divine revelation. Musical genius or compassionate angel, he didn't know, but something inspired him, more than anything had in his entire life.

Still playing, Jones fumbled for a fresh scrap of parchment, drawing a quick scale and then beginning to write. He wrote until he had the basic melody scribed onto the parchment. Then he began to embellish the piece, adding dynamics and accompaniments. Dual melodies evolved, and the music grew stronger, more complex, and far more beautiful.

Jones let his mind rest in this time. The music was so…different from the song of the music box. It was so wild and free, adventurous, but melancholy, hinting at a sad past. Beautiful, yet bold. Soft, yet firm.

It reminded him of Bree.

It had been almost two hours since Jones had begun working on the song. He hadn't ceased, pieces of parchment littering his organ and desk area now.

At last, the piece was finished. Jones sat back, sighing contentedly. This had truly freed him for the moment and cleared his mind.

Then it struck him.

_Why not send the song to Bree?_

No one would know the message behind the song. But Bree would.

Fetching another piece of parchment, Jones began copying the music down as neatly as he could. When he finished, he paused. It needed a title.

Jones actually sat there for ten minutes, simply staring into space. He fingered the medallion around his neck, and then wrote down four words.

_For thee, sweet Bree._

Bree lifted her head from her blanket, her eyes filmed over with sleep. She yawned expansively, deciding to get up and walk about on deck to shake off the sleep.

Slipping out of her hammock, Bree pulled on her jerkin, climbing up to emerge on deck. She shivered. The morning was cold, and fog hung on the air like thick smoke scudding across the water. Bree went to the railing of the _Bloodmast_, yawning a few more times and rubbing her arms to get them warm. Then she spotted something. A small object was bobbing through the water at the side, where the waves lapped at the ship.

Bree, curious to see what it was, fetched a long pole and managed to hook whatever the object was by a small rope. Hauling it up, Bree retreated to a corner to look at it.

Sitting down, Bree unhooked the object and examined it. It was a small keg, and when Bree shook it she didn't hear any liquid sloshing about inside. She examined the bunghole. It was watertight.

Bree unsheathed her claws, which she still had, even after two years, and brought her hand slamming down on the barrel. It splintered into pieces, revealing a small bundle of parchment. Bree, now doubly curious, picked the bundle out and undid the string tying the pieces of parchment together.

Bree saw something written on the front of the package. Having learned her letters at last, (Barbossa had insisted on it) Bree was able to read the name. A tremor went through her.

_Davy Jones_

Bree literally tore at the package now, eager to see what was on the pieces of parchment. Her heart was pounding and her hands shaking. Bree spread the sheets of paper out on the deck before her, her eyes tearing up as a smile lit her features.

A song.

Bree ran her finger over the notes of music, mentally going over the sound of each note. This was a different song from the one she had played with Jones. Her gaze flicked to the title of the song.

_To thee, sweet Bree._

A tear splashed onto the parchment, and Bree silently wept. Joy at the knowledge that he still loved her was mixed with loneliness, knowing that this was all she could hope for…just his memory.

After she had properly recovered, Bree hurried down to the hold. She had gotten her very own fiddle while on one of the _Bloodmast_'s many voyages. She was eager to play this new song. She took the fiddle and the music up to the bow, tuning her instrument.

Bree took a deep breath as she put the bow to the strings. Then, slowly and softly at first, she began to pull the bow across, the notes coming out perfectly.

Bree felt herself swept away by the music, tears coming to her eyes. This song was dedicated to her. By the man she loved. She played like she had never played before, giving herself over entirely to the moment.

The crewmembers of the _Bloodmast_ woke to the sound of Bree's song. All thought it was the voice of a Siren. It was so beautiful, so sad and wild, it brought emotions whirling from the depths of one's heart.

Bree finished the song, her face moist with her tears. She slowly took the bow from the fiddle, sighing. She spoke out into the fog, her voice softer than a whisper.

"For thee, my captain."

It had been almost a total of four years since Bree had been separated from Jones. Yet the pain was still there for the girl. Memories never fade, no matter how much time passes.

The music box had begun to break. Bree had wound it up one night to listen to it as she slept. It began playing, but then it suddenly stopped. The gears were jamming. Overuse had caused it to grow rusty and scratched. Bree was distraught. What was she to do now?

Now Bree only had the song Davy had written for her. She kept the envelope the letter had been in stowed away in her jerkin, close to her heart. She never showed it to anyone. However, when alone, she would pull it out and simply stare at Jones' name, written in his own hand. The ink had begun to fade and crack, but she still kept it close.

And this was what Bree was doing the night they pulled into Tortuga. She was the last one out of the hold, moving slowly. Stepping off onto land, Bree hardly noticed the rowdy atmosphere. She was busy thinking, humming her beloved tune to herself.

But she was brought back to reality as she accidentally bumped into someone. Looking up, Bree held up her palms in apology, "Oh, I'm sorry, marm."

Bree stopped to observe the newcomer. It was a tall, beautiful young woman, with dark, curly hair that fell in lovely disarray about her shoulders. She had deep blue eyes that had the look of a kind but brave soul in them. Bree felt a sudden admiration rise in her. Bree was a rather perceptive girl who could sense a person's character.

The young woman looked to Bree, smiling graciously, "No harm done, little one." Her deep blue eyes flicked to the broadsword slung across Bree's back. A warm smile spread across her lips, "Ah, I know you. Bree, isn't it?"

Bree tilted her head, surprised, "Aye marm, but…how d'ye know me?"

The young woman smiled at her again, her voice warm, "I've heard many good things about you, brave girl. I know your captain well."

Bree felt flattered, scratching her cheek as a blush crept up to her cheeks. She smiled softly, "Well, erm…thank ye, marm. How d'ye know Barbossa?"

Before the woman answered, her eyes looked past Bree. A soft smile lit her lovely features and she strode forward gracefully.

Bree turned, seeing Barbossa coming towards them. He met the young woman, smiling broadly at her. Bree could instantly see a soft expression in his eyes. Bree grinned, immediately understanding.

Barbossa bent and kissed the young woman's hand, and she wove her arm through the crook of his elbow and walked beside him. Both adults paused beside Bree. Barbossa looked at the young woman proudly, then addressed Bree, "Well, mate, I see ye've met Miss Doyle."

Bree nodded, smiling up at her captain's lady. The young woman laughed softly, her voice like summer wind through bluebells, "Oh, I'm sorry, I never introduced myself properly. My name is Lillian. And I've…known…Hector for many years."

Bree raised an eyebrow at her captain, saying in a voice filled with mirth, "_Hector?_"

Barbossa coughed, whispering into Lillian's ear, and the young woman pursed her lips in a fake pout, "Oh, come now, sir, your first mate has a right to know your name."

Bree stifled a giggle, enjoying seeing her captain deflate before this woman. She radiated authority and strength. And Bree could see that, despite her upright manners and grace, that she was a warrior.

Bree took a pace back, speaking in a tone strained with stifled laughter, "Well, me lord an' lady, I won't keep ye."

Lillian smiled down at Bree, her eyes friendly. Barbossa grinned as well. He had a fatherly affection for Bree. But he then turned to Lillian, "Shall we, me dear?" Lillian smiled at him, and the two went off together.

Bree stood, finally breaking into a fit of laughter. _Hector!_ Who would've thought it?


	19. Back to the Sea

Alright, mates. This is the first ending of my story. After this chapter, my next one will be separate, a different ending. This is a happy ending, the next one is a sad ending. Enjoy!

Chapter XIX (Ending A)

Back to the Sea

Bree never returned to the _Bloodsail_.

Sitting in the Faithful Bride inn and tavern, working away at her second bottle of strong rum, Bree was suddenly assailed by a pair of hands covering her eyes. A hiss of restrained laughter blew onto the back of her neck as a roguish voice spoke, "Guess who!"

Bree knew that voice anywhere. Without hesitation she cried out joyously, "Jack Sparrow!"

The hands drew away from her eyes and she turned to see her old friend. Giving out a delighted shout, Bree threw herself into his arms, pounding his back and crying, "Ah, mate, ye're alive! An' ye're a sight for sore eyes!"

Jack hugged her tightly, answering back, "Aye, beauty, 'tis good to see ye again. Wasn't too hard to track ye down." He drew away and held her at arm's length, looking her over approvingly, "First mate aboard the _Bloodsail_? I expected ye to be captain by now."

Bree laughed, "Aye, well, I suppose ye just want me to get back at ol' Barbossa for ye, aye?" Jack made a face, but brightened again. He stepped away and Bree was seized in a vice-like grip. The breath whooshed from her lungs and she swiveled around to see who was crushing her ribs.

"Pintel! Ragetti!"

The two pirates were hugging the young girl at the same time, latching on like limpets. Bree's face was turning purple, but her eyes were shining with joy. Gibbs, always the sensible man, pulled the two pirates away from the girl, reprimanding them, "C'mon, ye dogs, ye'll snap 'er spine!" He said this in a harsh voice, but his eyes were shining with mirth.

Bree, after she had gotten her wind back, embraced Gibbs, and then in turn embraced all her old mates. How good it was to see them again!

Bree looked back to Jack and asked, "Are Will an' Elizabeth with ye, mate?"

Jack shook his head, and spoke, "No, mate, 'fraid not. But I've talked to 'em lately. They're married now! An' Liz had twins!"

Bree clapped her hands like a delighted young one, happiness for her friends reflected in her eyes, "My best wishes to 'em!"

Jack smiled, "Well, they're still thinkin' of ye. I heard that they named the girl Bree an' the boy Jack."

Bree clasped Jack's hand in her own, "Maybe we should both see the children an' show 'em their namesake!"

Jack laughed, throwing his arm around Bree's shoulders.

The remainder of the night was spent in the quieter corner of the tavern, the crew of the _Black Pearl_ gathered around Bree as she told tales of her adventures as first mate aboard the _Bloodmast_. Jack and the others laughed when Bree began mimicking the antics of Jack the monkey, who had accompanied the crew of the _Bloodmast_ on all of their voyages. They enjoyed listening to her tell of bloody battles, bragging in the typical pirate fashion of how many men she slew. She was a good story teller, her low voice a nice thing to listen to. Even if her vocabulary wasn't as expansive as Barbossa's or Jack's, she was descriptive and brought her listeners straight into the story.

Jack watched Bree, enjoying her voice and her gestures as she acted out her stories. She was a wonderful girl. Almost a pity that she hadn't been raised a lady. She would've made a lovely wife for a lucky young man. But then again, that wasn't Bree. She was wild and independent, fierce and tough, a true pirate. And she seemed happy to be alone.

Seemed was the main word, here.

Jack was a perceptive man, clever and cunning. He watched Bree's eyes. They were animated and engaged, fiery with happiness at being with her friends and old shipmates again. But something was clouding them. A sense of loss was evident to him. She wasn't completely happy.

Something was missing.

Bree sat back, giggling to herself. The entire crew was drunk. Not a surprise. One couldn't help but drink all the rum you could hold when at Tortuga. Bree herself hadn't drunk much. She loved rum as much as any pirate, but she liked to keep her wits sharp most of the time.

Bree watched as the crew of the _Black Pearl_ filed away one by one to find a place to bed down for the night. Marty stumbled and tripped over the paws of a dog that had seemingly appeared. Bree grinned, helping the short crewmember up. She looked down at the dog, bending down and ruffling its ears. It licked her hands, making a soft growling sound of pleasure as she scratched harder.

Jack, who surprisingly hadn't gotten as drunk as the others, bent down beside Bree, "Cute fellow, ain't he?"

Bree nodded, rubbing the dog's belly as he rolled over, giving out a happy sigh. She looked up at Jack, "Did he come with ye?"

Jack nodded, "Aye, mate. Poochy's a fine mutt. Came all the way from Port Royal, so 'e did." He turned the dog's ears inside out and then tweaked Bree's ear, "C'mon, beauty, I've got somethin' to discuss with ye."

Bree and Jack had gone for a short stroll outside of Tortuga. Jack pointedly took his time. Bree realized that they were headed for the small cliff where she had thrown her medallion out to sea so long ago.

The two pirates sat at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the horizon. The moon hung like a pale gold coin in the sky, the deeper night falling like dark velvet as the last traces of pink disappeared.

Jack cleared his throat, "Bree, it does me heart good to see ye again."

Bree grinned at him, "An' it does me good to see ye as well, mate." She put her arms around him in a soft hug. Jack chuckled, squeezing her, only to have her squeeze him so hard he was sure his ribcage had constricted.

Jack thought back four years earlier. When he had first met Bree, he had considered her a potential partner, if only a temporary one. Jack had been with many women before. He had even thought, only for a short moment, that he had been in love with Elizabeth. But he examined this and realized that the feelings were not true. Then Jack had met Bree. Jack remembered the kiss he had shared with the girl. It had been a strange impulse. Perhaps the thought that he would never see her again spurred him on to see what sort of emotions she would stir in him. And that kiss had convinced him of one thing.

Something about Bree was different. She was his mate. His friend. A fellow pirate. She could outfight most men and was as tough as they came. But she was kind hearted, jovial and welcoming. She was his friend. And that was how far his love reached. And by the look he had seen in her eyes, Jack had already guessed.

Bree was already in love.

Brushing hair from Bree's face, Jack spoke, "Bree…o'er the last four years…I've been keepin' watch for any signs o' Jones' heart." He felt her tense when he said this.

"Aye, I never got around to tellin' ye. We never found it. Yet we haven't been seein' any signs o' Beckett usin' it. My guess is he's had trouble contactin' Norrington."

Jack now had to speak slowly. He had a feeling that Bree's reaction to his news would be rash and overly excited, "Bree…mate, I've heard that Norrington has set up his headquarters on Isla Cruces. He has the heart, an'…"

Jack's assumption was correct. Bree leaped up, almost overbalancing over the cliff. She shouted out, "Isla Cruces! Where's that!"

Jack grabbed onto Bree's waist, balancing her. He breathed out slowly, "'Sblood, mate, ye frightened me! Now settle down."

Bree sat back down, quivering with excitement, "Jack…can ye tell me where Isla Cruces is?"

Jack stroked Bree's back, trying to calm her down as he answered, "I'm afraid I don't know where it is. I've been there, but I don't know how to get there. But…I know someone who does."

Bree turned to him, eyes eager, "Who? I'll go ask them!"

Jack winced, knowing this would cause trouble for both him and Bree.

"Tia Dalma knows where it is."

Bree tensed. But she rose, nodding resolutely, "Aye, then I'll go ask her!"

Jack stood up beside Bree, admiring her determination, "An' I'll go with ye, or at least take ye to Tia."

Bree clasped Jack's hand in her own, smiling, "I accept, mate."

Bree hadn't forgotten how wonderful it was to sail on the _Black Pearl_. The smoothness and the absolute peace was refreshing. And working alongside all her old mates was just as wonderful.

It wasn't long before they came in sight of the wide river that fed from the sea. Bree watched as one of the ship's boats was lowered into the water. She stepped up, adjusting her sword hilt, "I'll go alone."

Jack glanced at her, his eyes concerned, "No offense, beauty, but Tia Dalma would eat ye whole."

Bree was fingering something as she answered gravely, "No, I don't think she will."

Bree bent over, tying the tether to a post on the small deck of Tia Dalma's shack. She then stepped out, touching her sword hilt to comfort herself. She climbed up the ladder, pausing before the door. She took a deep breath, her heart beating hard. She gathered up her nerve and swallowed a few times. She was ready.

Bree opened the door slowly, peeking in cautiously. There was Tia Dalma, bent over in a corner, filling a jar with some sort of grisly substance. Bree cleared her throat to announce herself.

Without straightening, Tia Dalma spoke in a level voice, "I knew dat ya would be comin' by dis way, liddle snake."

Bree bristled, his lips rising in a snarl. Tia Dalma was insulting her!

Stepping forward, Bree fingered the hilt of her broadsword, fighting to keep back the urge to mouth back. She spoke in a strained voice, "I've come to ask for yer help."

Tia Dalma rose from her hunched position and turned to face the girl. Her dark eyes were hard. Bree noticed a dagger hanging from a girdle around her waist. Obviously the woman thought a fight would ensue.

To suggest otherwise, Bree unbuckled her sword belt, laying it across the table. She spoke, "I ain't here to fight. I give ye me word that I'll not harm ye."

Tia Dalma picked up the sword, disappearing behind a beaded curtain in the back of the shack. She reappeared, without the sword. Bree grimaced. Would she ever get that weapon back?

The witchdoctor sat down, motioning for Bree to do the same. Bree sat down, but immediately sat up again as something draped about her shoulders. She turned her head to the side to see the face of a large, yellow boa hovering near hers, flicking its tongue in and out at her.

Bree realized that Tia Dalma was trying to frighten her off. But Bree wasn't afraid of any snakes. She forced her hackles to lower and sat down softly, not making any sudden movements. The snake slithered into a loop about her neck, and Tia Dalma looked hard at the young girl. There was no fear in those blue depths.

Bree reached up a hand and stroked the snake's scales, remarking coolly, "I've always liked snakes. As ye've called me a 'little snake', I'll have a chat with me brother here."

Bree saw a flash of something, be it admiration or scorn, light Tia's eyes only for an instant. Then they returned to that lusterless color of deep black.

Bree got straight to the point, not wanting to waste time. "I've gotten word about the whereabouts o' Davy Jones' heart."

Tia stiffened, and her eyes flashed, "An' what d'ya want ta do wid dat? I don't tink ya will want ta stab him heart, aye?"

Bree shook her head, and the snake suddenly squeezed tighter around her throat. Bree, trying to stay calm, gently pressed a finger in between her skin and the snake, loosening the loop. She then spoke, "I'm goin' to return it."

Tia crossed her arms across her chest, sneering, "Dis would be no good. Wid him heart he can remember."

Bree stood, anger in her eyes, "He can remember now! He doesn't have to put the heart back in if 'e doesn't want to! But…I ain't gonna sit by while someone uses the heart to hurt me friends!"

Tia shrank back, intimidated by the intensity of Bree's stare. The snake slithered from Bree's neck, moving across the floor to disappear.

Bree reached into her jerkin, pulling out the music box. She scooted it across the table to Tia, "It don't work no more, but I'll trade it for the information."

Tia picked up the box, examining it. She waved her hand over it, and it suddenly began to play. Bree's mouth hung open.

Tia looked up, her eyes hard, "I don't like ya, liddle snake. But I know ya frien's wid Lizbeth Swann, William Turna an' Jack Sparrow. For dem I'll tell ya. Den ya will never set foot in 'ere agin."

Bree smiled triumphantly, "Aye."

Jack looked down, hauling Bree aboard. He could tell by the look on her face that she had gotten what she wanted.

Shaking water from her tunic, Bree smiled, pulling a scrap of paper from her jerkin and handing it to Jack, who promptly took it to his cabin. And the _Pearl_ sped with the wind like some sort of beautiful black bird.

James Norrington blinked several times, warding off the heavy fog of fatigue. He hadn't slept in a while. There was so much to do. He stifled a yawn and went into his office, looking out the window into the dark night.

Sitting down, Norrington picked up a bundle of letters he was preparing to read. He pulled one of his candles closer to him so as to see the writing better.

A soft puff of air sounded near Norrington's ear, and the candle flame danced and then was extinguished. Norrington tensed, knowing he wasn't alone.

Norrington felt cold steel press the back of his neck. Without moving or showing any sign of alarm, he spoke in a level voice, "I won't try anything, if that's what you're thinking."

A rough voice growled out, "Ye'd best not, scum. I'm not leavin' this place until I get what I came for, an' I'll gladly kill ye if ye try to stop me."

Norrington felt the tangy taste of fear in the back of his throat, but he remained calm and stoic, "And what did you come for?"

The voice snarled out, "Ye stole somethin' from a friend o' mine. It was very dear to 'im. So dear that 'e buried it on this island so none would ever disturb it. An' it should 'ave remained that way. But necessity drove others to remove it. But ye stole it, an' are now the pawn of an evil man…an evil man who wants to harm others for power!"

Norrington knew that the intruder was referring to the heart of Davy Jones. He kept it locked away, never trusting anyone with it. He now spoke in a deceptively friendly voice, "Come around so I can see you, and we'll negotiate. I hope you don't think me daft enough to simply give it to you."

The blade pressed against Norrington's neck harder, actually pricking him. Now the voice hissed close to Norrington's right ear, "Ye're daft enough to steal the heart o' Davy Jones!"

Norrington tried to hide the quaver in his voice, "Jack Sparrow sent you?"

The blade never left Norrington's neck as the voice answered, "No. I came of my own accord. I'm here to right a wrong done to someone very dear to me."

Norrington's hand began inching toward the sword concealed under his desk. The blade snapped forward, slapping hard on his hand as the voice growled out, "Don't think I can't see ye! I moved the sword. I ain't as daft as ye think! Now, give me the heart!"

Norrington heard the snarl in the voice, knowing that this intruder meant business. He guessed the thief wasn't afraid to kill if necessary. He could sense anger and hatred radiating from the figure behind him.

Rising from his place, Norrington spoke, "If you kill me, you won't know where the heart is. You would gain nothing by taking my life."

The thief growled, and Norrington caught sight of bared teeth flashing close to his right side, but he didn't dare turn his head with the blade pressed to his neck. The voice spoke again, "Don't think I wouldn't look! I'm givin' ye a chance to give it to me an' keep yer life! Either way, I'll have what I came for! I'm strong enough to break through any lock ye have on yer goods!"

Norrington had no choice. He somehow didn't doubt these words. He nodded, "I'll give it to you."

The blade was removed from his neck and soon prodded him in the back, "Move!"

The man walked forward slowly, the blade still pressed to him. He went calmly to the concealed chest behind the wall hanging. Taking the chest out of the small hole, he held it out and said, "Come around to my front and get the chest."

The voice gritted out in his ear, "Go an' set it on that table."

Norrington obeyed, his mind working vigorously. He set the chest down, and said, "I suppose you want the key now, correct?"

The voice spoke again, "Wrong."

The blade was removed from Norrington's back, and he saw a slight movement on his left. The figure circled around him, blade outstretched. Norrington noted with some slight admiration that the thief had strategically chosen the most shadowed area to do this.

The sword now stood between Norrington and the thief. If he tried anything, he knew he would be skewered. He watched as the figure raised a hand, and suddenly brought it slamming down. Norrington heard a clang, like metal upon metal. He then saw the chest open, and the thief reached in and withdrew the heart.

Norrington decided to act now. Only one thing to do, even if it was a desperate chance.

Reaching back the moment the figure was putting the heart away in a pouch, Norrington grabbed a ledger from his desk and brought it swinging forward.

The thief wasn't taken by surprise. Norrington found himself grabbed in a vice like grip and lifted bodily. With immense strength, the intruder flung Norrington forward. Falling awkwardly, Norrington lay stunned. But he recovered swiftly, and by pure chance felt out and felt his sword handle. He grasped it firmly and drew it, lunging forward and stabbing outwards. He felt the tremor run through his hand as his opponent's blade met his. He had never fought against one armed with a broadsword before. It would be difficult.

Circling around, Norrington watched for chances to attack. His opponent had the advantage of the shadows. He could see twin blue flames glaring out at him from the darkness.

Somehow Norrington realized that this was an enemy he couldn't defeat. He gave out a call, "Marines!"

The thief snarled in frustration, jumping forward and swinging out at Norrington, catching him on the side. He sucked in his breath as the hefty blade grazed him. But he parried another thrust, feeling his arm tingling. Whoever this fighter was, they had great strength!

Norrington fought his way over to the table in the corner where a lone candle flickered. Grabbing the candle in one hand, he held it out to survey his adversary. He was surprised.

A young girl was coming at him, her blue eyes blazing like angry stars, misting over red. She looked strong and fit, a real fighter, tough and capable. She was baring long, vicious fangs at him and her face was distorted in a snarl of hatred. She swung out with her broadsword, but Norrington parried.

Five marines came into the room, bayonets fixed and ready. In the dim candlelight, they could see the young pirate fighting Norrington. They rushed forward, but the girl leaped back, ready for them. She swung onto the desk, knocking over pens and ink bottles. She kicked one marine hard in the chin as he rushed forward, and then she dropped, stabbing out and catching the next marine straight through the face, slaying him instantly.

Leaping down, the girl threw a punch that the most skilled boxer couldn't equal, cracking the jaw of the third marine. She then dropped her sword, grabbing the fourth and lifting him bodily, madness of battle in her eyes. She flung him forward, and he crashed into the fifth marine, and both were knocked senseless.

Norrington was no coward, but faced with such wrath, anyone would be afraid. The girl came at him, hatred in her eyes. She had him backed into a corner, her naked sword gleaming and her teeth bared. Then, suddenly, she leaped straight up, pushing herself into a somersault and crashing through the window. Norrington ducked and covered his head as shards of glass rained down on him. After the glass stopped falling, he looked up, to see the figure of the thief disappear into the darkness. And the heart with her.

Bree knelt on the sandy beach, the tide lapping around her knees. Bree was weeping softly, the heart held tight in her hands. Blood dripped down the girl's arms as she wept with pure joy. At last, she could return the heart to its rightful owner.

And give her own heart along with it.

Jack was pacing the deck anxiously, awaiting Bree's return. What if she had been captured? Or worse, killed?

Gibbs sighed in exasperation, "Jack, she'll be fine! She's tough enough to handle the former commodore."

Jack, without looking to Gibbs, corrected him, "_Former _former commodore." Then he resumed his pacing.

Jack nearly jumped out of his hat when Bree wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him in a bear hug. Jack was positive he heard a crack, but turned around, hugging Bree back, "Ach, there ye are, luv! Were ye successful?"

Bree held the heart in her hand, beaming, "Aye! Take a lookit this beauty!"

Jack smiled, "Aye, lovely. Well, now what's to do?"

Bree never hesitated, "Ye take me to the _Dutchman_!"

The smile vanished as Jack protested, "Now, mate, I don't want a run-in with Jones!"

Gibbs, sensing a coming argument, wisely ducked away.

Bree pouted, "Oh, come now, Jack. Ye don't even have to talk to 'im! In fact, just take me to the _Dutchman_ an' I'll take the ship's boat!"

Jack crossed his arms, "How d'ye expect to find the _Dutchman_?"

Bree held out her hand, "Give me yer compass."

Jack sighed, obeying. Bree flipped it open, and almost immediately she spoke, "We have our heading."

Jack was then certain. Bree knew exactly what she wanted!

Clanker took a swig of his grog, feeling it ward off some of the chill. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, sighing heavily. He scanned the dreary horizon, his single eye piercing the darkness.

Then he saw the boat. Clanker peered closer. His eyesight was good. There was only one figure in the boat. Not a very big one, either. But it was rowing strongly.

Clanker signaled to Maccus, who came to join him. He whispered in his ear and pointed. Maccus followed Clanker's finger and saw the boat.

Maccus spoke a few whispered words to Clanker as the boat neared. Finally, it drifted alongside the _Dutchman_. The cloaked figure shipped its oars, rising and latching onto the side of the ship.

Maccus stood forward as the figure climbed up the side, face shadowed by the hooded cloak. He growled menacingly, "Who be ye, mortal scum?"

Two eyes like blue flames pierced the shadow of the hood to land on Maccus. A familiar voice grated out, "Doesn't matter. I want to see Jones."

Maccus made a half laugh half growling noise as he answered, "I'll wager ye do."

Maccus' breath was cut short as a claw shot out and gripped him around the neck. The grip of the fingers was so hard it drew blood. The figure growled, "And I will."

Jones hadn't been alerted of the sighting of the boat. He slept on in his cabin, snoring softly and letting his dreams go free. He had still been haunted with dreams like this over the last four years. But he had to push them to the back of his mind every time he was brought back to the cold, hard reality of his half-life.

Jones came awake as he heard his cabin door open. Still a bit groggy, Jones raised his head, ready to call out a threat to whoever was trespassing.

"Captain!"

Jones froze. That voice.

No. No, it couldn't be. He must still be dreaming.

Hardly daring to believe it, Jones turned slowly, letting his eyes fall on the figure in the doorway. The trespasser threw back the hood, letting a soft beam of dim light illuminate the face.

Jones felt his words catch in his throat. It took him a while to get that one, sweet word out.

"_Bree…_"

A beautiful smile lit the girl's face. Jones tried to say more, but the only result was strange broken sounds that tried to form into words. Bree solved it for him. She walked forward until she stood in front of Jones. She knelt, as though she were a humble vassal. Jones could only speak in a whisper.

"Ye came back…"

Bree bowed her head, and Jones could see soft tears sliding down her cheeks. She raised her head, her eyes shining clear. She composed herself and spoke, "I…I have something that ye might want."

Standing, Bree reached into her cloak. She pulled something out of the folds. It looked like a bundle of cloth, stained with something wet. She held it out to Jones, bowing her head respectfully.

Jones took the object, unwrapping it. His mouth went dry. It was the heart.

The captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ looked to Bree, unsure, "Where did ye get this?"

Bree answered obediently, "I stole it. An' I thought it proper to return it."

Jones questioned her, "Why didn't ye give it to yer friends?"

"I wanted ye to have it."

Jones couldn't keep back his emotions. He stepped forward, touching Bree's face with a tentacle, caressing her cheek. How could he have not realized how sweet she was? Bree closed her eyes, sighing almost wistfully. Then she opened her eyes again, adding, "I'm here to stay, if I'm welcome."

Davy Jones felt his soul soaring when she said this. _She was his again!_

Jones looked down at his heart, wondering. Didn't he now have a reason to return it to his flesh?

"Bree…" Jones spoke with the shyness of a young child, "…I can't do this on my own."

Bree looked down at Jones' hands. He held the heart in his normal hand, but he couldn't use his claw to replace the heart.

"Will ye help me?"

Bree blushed bright red, and Jones adored her for it. She was so pure, so sweet and so innocent. A beautiful virgin, shy and ignorant of the ways of vulgar men. He should have looked for that back when he was a mortal and a younger man.

Bree took the heart from Jones, holding it gently. Jones curled his tentacle beard behind his shoulders and moved back his shirt, revealing the terrible hole in the left side of his chest. Bree didn't pale at the horrific sight. But Jones could see pity filling her eyes. She glanced up shyly at him, and then reached out, slowly, timidly, and gently touched him. Jones felt fire shoot through him, but Bree's hand cooled that flame in a soothing way. He could feel the tingling in her fingers magnified in his own skin as she began to replace the heart.

Bree began to probe the hole in Jones' chest, pulling back jagged cuts and trying to find the proper way to put the heart in. Her hands were trembling, and her arms felt numb as she worked.

Jones marveled at how gentle Bree's touch was. He relished the feel of her hands as she worked, deftly reconnecting things and positioning the heart. Jones felt the arteries begin to reconnect, and blood began to flow through him again.

All the while, Jones' eyes never left Bree's face. She glanced up at him every once in a while, but she seemed so shy and timid. As the heart began to fuse back into his body, Jones felt his emotions growing stronger. His feelings were coming back to him after so long.

Bree took her hands away, and the skin sealed up over the heart. She touched Jones' chest softly, feeling the hard muscles underneath and running her hands over the long, jagged battle scars that the great captain had accumulated over centuries of hardship, before and after his terrible curse. The heart finally fused in place, and Bree removed her hands, almost not wanting to.

Jones felt as if he would die. He had thought it wasn't possible to love Bree any more than he had. But now…the feeling was so fiery and strong that he couldn't stand it. He couldn't help himself. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close to him and kissed her.

Bree was somewhat surprised but opened her mouth and responded, her arms around his neck. Jones could feel tears rolling down his cheeks, and they mingled with Bree's own tears.

Jones drew away for one short moment, asking in an almost breathless voice, "Ye won't leave me again, will ye, Bree?"

Bree clung closer to him as she answered, "I didn't want to leave…an' I still don't want to…an' I won't."

Jones sighed, pure bliss making him giddy as he felt her lips against his again. They spoke no more words after this, simply content to melt into one another's arms.

Jimmylegs was peeping through a crack in the door, straining to see. He saw the forms of Bree and Jones embracing. He grinned, hissing to the others, who were huddled behind him.

"'E kissed 'er."

Murmurs broke out, and barnacle crusted elbows nudged sides as the crew winked and chuckled.

Bootstrap stood in the back of the group, smiling. He spoke under his breath, inaudible to all.

"Finally."

"I thought ye were goin' to stay on the _Dutchman_!"

Jack stood in front of Bree who had returned to the _Pearl_. He noticed how her face was absolutely radiant and she was carrying herself differently. But he waited for her answer.

"I will, Jack, but…well, I've come to ask another favor of ye."

Jack, unable to refuse a friend anything, nodded, "Fine. What is it?"

Bree began blushing again, "Well, ye're a cap'n…can ye perform a marriage?"

Jack wasn't stupid. He immediately put two and two together. His mouth dropped open. There was a moment of awkward silence, in which Bree clearly heard Cotton's parrot outside the cabin squawk, "Awk! Bilgewater! Bilgewater!" Cotton must be swearing some colorful oaths.

Then Jack rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Bree's torso and lifting her into the air, swinging her around and laughing, "Ah, mate, my best wishes to ye! I'm honored ye'd think of me!"

Bree laughed, beating at his back painfully, "Ach, put me down, ye great ninny! Ye'll snap me spine if ye keep squeezin' me like that! 'Sblood, ye've a grip like the Kraken itself!"

Jack didn't release Bree but set her back down, ruffling her hair fondly, "Miss Bree, ye've done what no girl could! Ye've tamed the sea, so ye have!"

Bree glowed with pride and joy, "No, none can tame the sea! An' no one ever will!"

Jack squeezed Bree one last time, kissing the top of her head, "Tell me…how long did ye stare into one another's eyes?"

Bree slapped Jack playfully, "Oh, gerroff! Just tell me ye know somethin' about weddin's!"

The moment she said this, Bree and Jack both heard Gibbs call out, "Sail ho, off the starboard beam!"

Hurrying out into the night, Bree and Jack leaned over the railing to see the oncoming vessel. Bree's face lit up.

"It's the _Bloodmast_!"

And so it was! And she was up alongside the _Pearl _in no time. Bree could see Barbossa standing near the helm. He was looking across at the _Pearl_. Bree remembered that he had been captain of it once. During her time on the _Bloodmast_, Barbossa had told her about his desire to have the _Pearl_ back, though he still thought the _Bloodmast _was a good ship, but he called her an 'old lady'.

Bree waved across, "Ahoy, Cap'n!"

Barbossa spotted Bree. He was somewhat surprised. He hadn't known where the girl had gone when she didn't return to the _Bloodmast _when they put in at Tortuga. And now she was on the _Pearl_! With Jack Sparrow, nonetheless!

Like a cautious, overprotective father, Barbossa began thinking what anyone would. But he returned his thoughts to the present as Bree called across again, "Drop anchor, mate! I need to talk to ye!"

Jack grabbed Bree's arm, "What're ye doin'?"

Bree shushed him, "Oh, don't be a baby. He's like a father to me! I'll have to invite him to the weddin'!"

Barbossa came aboard the _Pearl_, keeping his distance from Jack. This was fine with both Bree and Jack. Bree took Barbossa off a ways and told him the good, but strange, news. Of course, Barbossa accepted the invitation. Then he excused himself, calling across to the _Bloodmast _for one of the crewmembers to fetch someone.

Bree looked across at the other ship, and was delighted to see a familiar figure come out of the cabin.

"Lillian!"

Lillian smiled across at Bree, waving. Then they all had to wait for Barbossa to return to the _Bloodmast_, fetch Lillian and come back aboard the _Pearl._

Lillian embraced Bree, "'Tis good to see you, young one. What news?"

And so Bree repeated her story. As all this was going on, Jack had disappeared to his cabin. He soon emerged, interrupting a conversation between the young woman and the girl about weddings, as Bree had no knowledge of them.

"Bree, mate, I'm thinkin' ye'd want to invite Will an' Elizabeth, aye?" Jack asked, and when Bree nodded he continued, "Here, I wrote a letter to 'em. D'ye think Jones could send on of 'is men to deliver it? None o' my crew would be able to get into Port Royal without bein' hung."

Bree took the letter from Jack, hugging him, "Always thinkin', aren't ye, Jack?"

Barbossa coughed loudly, striding away. Lillian winked at Jack and Bree, then turned to go after him.

Bree had never been into girly things. Having been born on a pirate ship and raised in Tortuga where girls weren't exactly trained to be ladies, she had always been a tomboy. She had always worn boy's clothes and played with the other young boys, wrestling and fighting with the best of them. She had never held with things like dresses and weddings.

Now she had to be. Of course, she knew nothing of weddings. But luckily, Lillian did, being more of a lady. The two young women sat up all that night, discussing things. Bree didn't want it to be too formal, as it was, after all, a pirate's wedding.

The next few days went both slowly and fast for Bree. Slow because of the eagerness for the day to arrive and fast because of the business of everything. But it wasn't too long after that Will and Elizabeth arrived via the _Bloodmast_, which had swung by Tortuga. The couple had arranged to meet Barbossa there.

Elizabeth hugged Bree, speaking excitedly, "Oh, Bree, it's all so wonderful! I can't believe it! When Will and I got the news, we just couldn't believe it!"

Will kissed Bree's cheek, "Aye, and we were so glad you though of us! Oh, you have to see the twins!"

A young woman came into the cabin, carrying a baby on each hip. She was a pretty woman, but hard and tough. Bree could tell she was another pirate.

The woman smiled, speaking in a rough voice, "Here they are! Jack an' Bree!" She handed the babes to their parents. She then stuck out her hand to Bree, "Ye must be Bree! Jack's told me a lot about ye."

Bree shook the woman's hand, "Aye, an' who are ye?"

The female pirate flashed her another smile, "Me name's Anamaria. I've known Jack for a long time, as well as Liz an' Will."

Bree smiled at her, "Well, any friend o' Jack is a friend o' mine."

Then Bree turned to the babies. The infant girl, Bree, was a chubby, dark-eyed beauty with soft little brown curls framing her face. The little boy, Jack, had the same dark eyes and lighter hair. Bree took Jack in her arms, bouncing him on her hip and smiling at his gurgled happily, "Aye, that's right, mate! Ach, ye're a big, fine fellow, ain't ye?"

Will and Elizabeth smiled as Bree baby-talked the infant boy. She would've made a fine mother.

The day had finally arrived. Bree rose from her hammock, feeling as if she had a swarm of mad butterflies in her stomach. She went to the _Pearl_'s railing, looking across at the _Dutchman_. Soon that would be her home.

_It already is my home_, she thought. And it was true. But she was still free. Jones had assured her that she would always be free to visit her friends and roam where she pleased.

A soft noise behind Bree caused her to turn. Elizabeth came to lean up against the railing beside her. She looked out over the waves before addressing Bree.

"Are you ready, Bree?"

Bree then realized how nervous she was. But she swallowed her anxiety, knowing that she was ready. She was ready because she loved Jones.

"Aye…aye, I'm ready, but…is it alright to be a bit nervous?"

Elizabeth laughed softly, "Of course! It's natural to be nervous! I was nervous when I married Will. But I was ready. And I knew I loved Will. And he loves me, like no man ever could."

Bree looked at Elizabeth. A soft expression of love was on her face. She smiled. Elizabeth felt the same love for Will that Bree felt for Jones.

Bree looked back at the _Dutchman_.

"I'm ready."

The wedding was in an hour.

Bree was sure she was going to faint. She went into the _Pearl_'s cabin with Anamaria, Lillian and Elizabeth. They were all going to help her get ready.

Elizabeth undid Bree's braids, running her fingers through her friend's thick, blond hair. It was tangled and a bit unruly, but Elizabeth went through it with a comb, making it shine like gold. Bree's hair was naturally wavy, falling to the middle of her back. Elizabeth looked her over approvingly, smiling, "You have beautiful hair, Bree."

Bree was never one to care about her looks. But she blushed, all at once wishing she wasn't as rough. This was, after all, her wedding.

Lillian and Anamaria, meanwhile, were seeing to Bree's clothing. Elizabeth had brought her own wedding gown, delighted to see it put to use again, especially for Bree. Once the three women had gotten the younger girl into the small barrel of water and rinsed the mud and grime from her, they helped her slip into the dress.

Bree hadn't seen herself in a dress. When Jones had made her wear it so long ago, she didn't have a looking glass to see it. Now there was a small glass for her to look in.

Bree stood in front of the mirror, hardly believing that the girl reflected back at her was really her. She looked so different!

A knock on the cabin door sounded. Elizabeth opened the door to reveal Maccus. He scraped apologetically, then held something out. Elizabeth took it from him and shut the door.

Lillian took the object from Elizabeth and undid the clasp. It was the medallion.

Looping it around Bree's neck, Lillian did the clasp again and pulled Bree's hair out of the way of the chain. The small medallion had been polished until it shone like a star. Bree stroked the chain, smiling softly.

At last, Bree was ready. Anamaria opened the door for her and she strode out.

Will, Gibbs, Jack, Barbossa and the other men were all standing outside, talking. When Bree came out, they all stood, slack-jawed. Even Jack couldn't speak for a long while. But he was the first to recover. Handing little Jack over to Gibbs, the captain of the _Black Pearl_ went to Bree, smiling approvingly, "Ah, me darlin', ye look lovely. I'm beginnin' to envy Jones."

Bree smiled, punching Jack playfully on the arm. She spoke in a somewhat shaky voice, "I hope I'm ready."

Elizabeth put her hand on Bree's arm, "Of course you are, Bree. Don't fret."

Bree smiled again, mouthing a thank you to her friends. She then went to Will, taking little Bree from his arms. She looked into the infant girl's dark brown eyes, saying softly, "I hope ye find yer true love…but not with all th' hardships I went through."

Bree gathered up her skirts, stepping onto the _Dutchman_. Bootstrap Bill embraced Bree, "Ye look stunnin', mate!"

Bree smiled up at him, "So…ye gonna help me do this?"

Bootstrap grinned, "Aye, it's easy. Just walk an' when Jack's talkin', nod a few times."

Bree grinned back, and then went with Elizabeth to make some last minute preparations.

Bree took the first few trembling steps, her arm hooked around Bootstrap's as they headed towards the makeshift altar. Jack stood holding an old Bible in his hands, and beside him stood Davy Jones. He was waiting for her.

Bree felt her mouth go dry. Her eyes locked with Jones'. She was sure that if she looked away she would lose all her courage. But she kept walking, Bootstrap whispering to her, "Ye're doin' fine, beauty. C'mon, just a few more steps."

Everyone was there. Will, Elizabeth, Gibbs, the rest of the _Pearl_'s crew, the _Bloodmast_'s crew, Barbossa, Lillian, even the _Dutchman_'s crew! Bree noticed with an inward smile that Hadras was weeping unashamedly.

At last, after what seemed like hours, Bree reached Jack and Jones. She stood opposite Jones, and Jack took his place slightly behind and between them. He opened the Bible, putting on a serious face and looking from Bree and Jones to the audience gathered before him. He cleared his throat, and said, "Er…join hands, mates…or…in yer case," he indicated Jones' claw, "_hand_."

Jones took Bree's left hand in his good hand and placed his claw under her right hand. He didn't take his eyes from her face. She was beautiful. Just like when he had first seen her in a dress. But then he hadn't known his feelings, and he hadn't known how badly he had needed her. And now she was his.

Bree barely heard Jack as he spoke. All her attention was drawn to Jones. When directed, she took Jones' ring from Elizabeth, who was standing nearby. She raised Jones' good hand in hers and slid the ring onto his finger, feeling him wrap his elongated forefinger around her wrist softly.

Jones then took Bree's ring from Will, sliding it onto her finger. Then he was content to simply look at her as Jack finished his speech.

Bree glanced over at the audience. She saw Lillian in the background, standing with Barbossa. Bree smiled. Barbossa was slipping a ring onto Lillian's finger as Lillian did the same. Bree made a mental note to congratulate Lillian later.

Jack finished up with some profound words that were pretty much lost on everyone. He sniffed, wiping his eyes and then looked back up at Bree and Jones, who were still staring at each other.

"Er…I said ye can kiss 'er now, Cap'n."

Jones flicked a tentacle absently at Jack, then bent, wrapping his arm around Bree's shoulders, pulling her close and kissing her. Bree responded, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks as cheers arose from the audience.

When Bree pulled away from Jones, she was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. She then turned to her friends and picked up her bouquet, which was a mix of hastily picked flowers and a few bits of coral.

Bree flung the bouquet out over the gathered group.

The bouquet flew and spiraled through the air to land squarely in Anamaria's grasp. Jack seemed to materialize at her side, looking at her hopefully.

Jones stood back as Bree hugged Jack. The captain of the _Black Pearl_ kissed the top of the girl's head, saying, "Ye be good, ye hear me? An' promise ye'll persuade yer husband to let ye visit me."

Bree cuffed him playfully, "Ah, git on with ye! Of course, don't worry yerself! Now shove off!" She kissed his cheek as he descended into the ship's boat to head back to the _Pearl._

Everyone had left. Will, Elizabeth, Barbossa and Lillian had all left earlier on the _Bloodmast_, and now Jack was setting off on the _Pearl_.

Bree watched the _Pearl_ disappear into the night. Jones stepped forward, reaching out and caressing her shoulders softly. He spoke softly, "Will ye miss them?"

Bree leaned back against Jones' shoulder, sighing, "Aye, but that's only natural. They're all my friends."

Then she turned in Jones' arms, looking up at him, "But I'd rather be with you."

Jones smiled, his newly restored heart swelling. He bent and kissed her again.

Bootstrap tapped on the stairs to announce his presence. Jones and Bree turned to see him.

Bootstrap nodded to them both, "It's gettin' late. Shouldn't you two…well…"

Bree bit her hands and blushed bright red. Jones coughed loudly, then said in a rough voice, "That's enough, Mister Turner."

Bootstrap saluted, grinning wildly, and descended back to the hold.

Jones looked down at Bree, feeling all his nervousness coming back, "Er, 'e is right, Bree…"

Bree looked up at him, nodding, "Aye…he is."

Bree intertwined her hand in Jones, her eyes shining with trust. Jones' mouth went dry. She was ready…for him.

Bree had never felt so much bliss, but she had never been so frightened. She was trembling, nervous and unsure. Jones was just as frightened as she was. His arms were shaking as he held her.

Bree never knew that Jones could be that gentle. He was treating her as if she was made of some fragile material, careful, slow and cautious. Bree felt her heart swelling for him, and the tingling grew worse.

Jones himself was unsure. He ran his claw down Bree's skin, but stopped as she shuddered, whispering, "I'm not hurtin' ye, am I?" He ruefully looked at the rough shell of his claw. But Bree shook her head, pressing herself closer, "No…don't stop."

The two both moved slowly and carefully. Bree was inexperienced and found this experience new and frightening. Jones gently coaxed her, helping her along, patient and gentle. He ran his good hand down her side, feeling the long, jagged whip marks that had never really healed and the cruel battle scars. He felt his newly recovered heart aching. That Bree would trust him in such a way truly showed that she loved him.

Jones hadn't realized how strong his craving for Bree was. Aye, there was no lust involved. Just being able to see her everyday would have been enough. But being able to touch her…and feeling her touch him…was so overwhelming that he thought he would burst from it all.

Bree felt something splash onto her shoulder. She looked up at Jones. Tears were slowly trickling down his cheeks. Bree reached up and touched his face, looking into his eyes. She noticed that the sickly blue color had brightened, deepening into a color identical to her own. Disturbed by his tears, Bree spoke in a breathless voice, "Am I…am I not doing it right?"

Jones removed his hand from Bree's torso and brushed the hairs from her face, admiring the soft pink color that was creeping up her neck into her cheeks. He kissed her softly, reassuring her, "No, lass. No one ever did better."

He was telling the truth. She was bringing him more pleasure than he had ever felt in his life. Just the knowledge that she did this with true love in her heart made him happy enough to die. Bree smiled, answering in a trembling voice, "Thank you, Captain."

Jones drew her closer, feeling her heart beating against his. His skin had been growing warmer with the combination of the blood now circulating through his body and Bree's warmth pressed against his. Jones pressed his mouth to Bree's hair, breathing in her scent as he whispered, "No more captain, Bree. I want you to call me Davy. Say my name for me, love. No more formality." He tipped her chin back, breathing onto her cheek, his voice trembling as he spoke words he never thought he would say, "Ye're the bride of Davy Jones, now, Bree. I'll expect ye to address yer husband by 'is name."

Bree tightened her grip on Jones' shoulders, speaking with a happy sob in her voice, "I will." Then she drew away enough to look up into his eyes, "I love you, Davy."

Jones cupped her face and kissed her again, feeling so much passion and love for her that he was sure he would never be able to fully express it, even if he had all eternity.

And that was how it would be. Bree would be with Davy Jones aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ for all eternity.


	20. Calm Seas

Here be the sad endin', mates. Tissues! And I want everyone to know how much I enjoyed writin' this!

Chapter XX (Ending B)

Calm Seas

Bree plucked at the strings of her fiddle, readying the bow. She set it gently to the strings, looking up at the faces of her audience. She grinned at them, winking, "What'll it be today, mates?"

Barbossa, who was very fond of Bree's music, spoke up, "Play Drowsy Maggie, Bree!"

Lillian Doyle smiled, nodding eagerly, "Oh, yes, I love that one! You play it so well!"

Bree grinned, obliging. Soon the crewmates were all tapping their toes to the lively air. The bow fairly flew over the strings as the melody went faster.

Everyone was caught in the moment, even Jack the monkey did a little dance.

Suddenly, a shudder ran through the ship, knocking everyone to their feet.

Barbossa was the first up, shouting, "Cannonfire! C'mon, dogs! Someone's firin' on us!"

Bree and Lillian ran up to the deck, looking across at the opposing ship. Bree's eyes landed on the flag flying; the East India Trading Company!

Bree's eyes narrowed. Her eyes fell on a small man standing at the railing. She immediately guessed that this was Lord Cutler Beckett. From all the descriptions Jack had given him, this man fit them all.

Bree held onto the railing as the _Bloodmast_ fired at the opposing ship. Bree was somewhat satisfied, however, to see the other crew preparing grapnels. Maybe a good fight was in store!

Lillian unsheathed her sword, grinning eagerly, "Ah, perhaps we'll get some proper fun, eh?"

Bree grinned back at her, her eyes misting over red. She drew her sword, watching as the _Bloodmast_'s crew hurried on deck, armed to the teeth.

And the first batch of marines swung over, muskets and swords at the ready. Shots rang out, and one of Bree's fellow pirates fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder. Bree gave out a growl, lunging out and lopping off a nearby marine's arm, her teeth bared.

The fight grew very ugly, very fast. However, the pirates were on the winning side. They were the better fighters, and with Bree, Lillian and Barbossa fighting together, death was everywhere.

Bree was like a wild beast, clawing, biting and cleaving. Blood flecked her jaws and her hands as she whirled about, slaying anyone who was unfortunate to come into the range of her sword swings.

Cutler Beckett, being the coward that he was, stayed to the shadows, his sword clasped firmly in his hand. The battle was going in the pirates' favor. He looked out at the writhing turmoil of red uniforms, wondering if there was an easy escape route. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a young girl, fighting off a marine with a large broadsword. He smiled. She would be easy to pick off.

Sneaking up behind the girl, Beckett raised his sword and thrust forward with all his strength.

Bree felt something go straight through her. She made a strange sound, half gasp and half groan as a blade pushed through her chest, protruding from right above her heart. She looked down at it dumbly, and then fell to her knees, blood dripping down her shirt and onto her hands. Her sword fell from her hands as she fell, her breathing ragged.

Barbossa turned, seeing Bree fall. He gave out a cry, rushing to her and dropping to his knees beside her. He lifted her head, calling out to her, "Bree! Bree, mate!"

Lillian also saw Bree take the blow. In a rage, she slew a marine in her way and ran to Bree. She knelt down by her head, wiping blood from the girl's mouth. Tears dripped down her cheeks and she spoke in a choked voice, "She's…she's been stabbed through the heart!"

Bree was dry heaving, pain causing her eyesight to leave her. She knew she was dying.

The _Flying Dutchman_ had come across the ship battle.

Davy Jones stood, trying to make out the two ships. He strained his eyes, and then stopped.

It was the _Bloodmast_.

Jones began bellowing out orders, "Head for those two ships! Lively now or I'll string ye up by yer guts!"

The crew of the _Dutchman_ had never crewed their ship so diligently.

The battle halted immediately when the _Dutchman_ drifted up alongside the _Bloodsail_. Without even waiting, Davy Jones made his way onto the ship, and all halted at the sight of him.

Jones looked about, and stopped. There were two people kneeling on the deck, bent over someone. Dread began filling Jones. He strode forward, and impatiently pushed the two forms away. Both people looked up, eyes wide, but moved out of the way.

Jones felt horror freeze his blood. Bree was lying there, blood staining her chest. She was barely breathing. Jones' worst nightmare were unfolding before him.

Jones knelt before the dying girl, tears shamelessly falling from his eyes as he whispered her name hoarsely, "Bree…Bree…please…please don't…"

Bree opened her eyes, but Jones could see the brightness already fading from the beautiful blue depths. She smiled softly, her face already pale from blood loss. She held her hand out, and Jones took it, kissing it softly, shutting his eyes tight. He couldn't lose her! He just couldn't! Separation was hard enough to bear, but losing her forever…

Bree struggled to speak, opening her mouth. Jones knelt lower so as to hear her, but all she could do was mouth the word, "Goodbye."

Jones caressed Bree's cheek, his tears splashing onto her face. She closed her eyes, sighing weakly. Jones knelt, kissing her again, trying to soak in the warmth of her lips, but he felt them turning cold. He drew away, searching her face. She had a soft smile curling the corners of her mouth, and she drew a long, deep breath.

Jones waited. No breath followed. Bree was dead.

Jones lifted his head and wailed. All those watching felt their marrow freeze when they heard that sound. All their following nightmares began and ended with that sound. It was like the howl of a dying animal. Jones gathered Bree's corpse up into his arms and embraced her, his tears mixing with her blood. _No, not his Bree! Not her!_

Jones pressed his mouth to the curve of Bree's neck, rocking back and forth as he tried to hold back the sobs. How could she be dead? How? _And why?_

Cutler Beckett had hidden himself below when he had seen Jones, and when he heard that scream, he felt his blood freeze. If he was caught…

Jones immediately stood, quivering with rage and heartbreak. He bared his teeth and turned to Maccus, who was wisely keeping his distance, "Find the scum who killed her!"

Maccus nodded, eager to have something to do.

Captain Barbossa stepped forward, for once strangely cowed by the presence of Davy Jones. But he spoke, "I saw who killed 'er. Cutler Beckett." He then stepped back. He stared mournfully at Bree's corpse. He had been fond of the girl. But he didn't dare approach the body. Jones was standing over it like an animal guarding the body of its dead mate.

Jones turned on one of the crew, "Where is he?" His voice was low with rage. The terrified man pointed to the hold with a shaky finger, and Jones stormed down, unsheathing his broadsword.

Beckett saw Jones descend to the hold. His mouth went dry with terror. It was as if Jones could sense his fear, for he turned in the direction of the coward's hiding place, and his eyes narrowed. He strode forward and knocked the barrels aside.

Beckett knew now that his life was over. He saw his fate written in the eyes of Davy Jones. The man of the sea's eyes were blazing with wrath, vengeance and bitter sorrow, hatred and heartbreak. He grabbed the cowardly Beckett by the neck and growled into his face, "Ye killed Bree…now I'll kill ye, an' ye'll wish ye were already in Hell!"

All those on deck shuddered as they heard Beckett's screams.

Jones reemerged on deck almost an hour later. He motioned to two of his crew, and they disappeared down below to retrieve the maimed and mutilated body of Cutler Beckett.

Jones went back to Bree's corpse, kneeling beside it and brushing the hair from Bree's lifeless face. He felt grief clouding his senses. His Bree…dead. He would never see her again. Never hear her laugh. Never see her feisty nature when she was excited. Never see her bravery in battle. Never…never kiss her again.

Jones wept openly, unashamed. No one dared to approach him, and he ignored them all.

Maccus stood off to the side awkwardly, holding something in his claws. He at last cleared his throat. Jones looked back at him, his eyes red with weeping. He snarled, "What?"

Maccus held the object out. Jones snatched it from him and examined it.

It was the heart.

Jones sighed brokenly, and then turned back to Bree.

He had no reason to go on living in this prison, as only half a man, neither alive nor dead.

"Bring me a dagger."

Maccus, too afraid to disobey his master, took a dagger from his belt and passed it to Jones. Jones gripped the dagger, looking down at Bree's lifeless body.

_I never told her that I loved her. I never said those words._

Jones looked down at his heart. It was quivering and shaking, like something gasping out with shuddering breaths, giving ragged sighs as if it couldn't go on beating. Like something too wounded to go on in existence.

It was breaking for a second time.

Jones closed his eyes, knowing that the pain he felt now would never go away. He couldn't keep feelings hidden forever. Why…why keep living when he should have died long ago…long before Bree was ever born?

Why keep on living without her?

Jones made up his mind.

_There is no reason why._

Jones drove the dagger into his still beating heart, all the way to the hilt.

Jones felt pain lance through him, but it was dulled by a great peace. His miserable existence would soon be over.

Jones slumped down on the deck beside Bree, his breathing growing shallow and rapid as pain made his head spin. He began vomiting up dark, black blood, feeling his life ending rapidly. It was almost there. Death was almost there.

Jones turned, seeing Bree's pale face through the haze of blood and death. She looked peaceful. Was that what death was? Peace?

Jones remembered what he himself had once said, _"Life is cruel. Why should the afterlife be any different?"_

It was different. He smiled as he slipped slowly into dark oblivion, the world around him fading. For a moment, he thought he could feel a hand briefly touch his shoulder…a gentle, loving touch.

And now he realized how the afterlife was different.

Bree was there.

The End


	21. Author's Note

A/N: I wrote Bad Luck Bree: The Girl on the _Flying Dutchman _when I was fifteen. Now I'm eighteen, and both my writing ability and my story-weaving ability have grown (as well as my vocabulary!) The story of Bad Luck Bree and Davy Jones is close to my heart (since I'm such a huge Davy Jones fan girl, and it was the first and so far the only fan fiction I've ever completed) and I've read over it several times. And lemme tell ya, I cringe every time. There are certain parts where I'm thinking 'PLOT HOLE!' or 'CHEESE!' or 'WHAT?!' I got a lot of really positive reviews from everyone, and lots of people really like Bree and her story as well as my writing style (btw, thank you so much for all your support and reviews! I love all of you guys!) and was told that I kept all of the canon characters like Jack, Bootstrap and Jones very in character and kept Bree from becoming a Mary Sue. I'll risk being considered vain and agree with this to an extent. I think I kept the canon characters MOSTLY in character (lots of pondering on their personalities and accents like Davy's and Jack's; JACK'S ACCENT IS NEVER COCKNEY, SO WHY DID I WRITE IT THAT WAY?!) and I think I kept Bree from being TOO unrealistic. Bree has still been very active in my brain over the last three years. Because of this, her history, her personality have developed and changed. Bree has changed. So I'm going to rewrite Bad Luck Bree: The Girl on the _Flying Dutchman_. I don't plan on changing any elements of the story plot wise (except fixing some inconsitencies, cutting out any cheesy bits, maybe actually getting the heart thing right this time, and adding a few little things) but I'm planning to simply improve this story. I'm keeping the old story up of course, though I'll probably be using passages from it verbatim (mostly dialogue and angst scenes, 'cause all of those were pretty good in my opinion). Hope y'all like it as much as ye liked the other one!

So go check out Bad Luck Bree REMASTERED and tell me what ye think!!


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